Eight Bull Hats

A daily writing prompt is what inspired this bizarre story.


The little exercise for this post is to write down ten random words (yeah, I have no idea where eight, bull and hats came from, but I wrote down griffin, treasure, gold, and fire as well…) Then you pick three of those words and that’s your blog post. So god knows what’s going to come out of this one…


The bull huffed and puffed in his straw cabin. He’d been to the market for a new hat and couldn’t make up his mind so tore eight from the stand in his fury and the little piggys behind the stall quivered and let him take them with no pay of carrots.. or whatever piggys bargain with.

The problem that he had, although he didn’t realise why, were that the hats were not designed for his head. They weren’t designed to accomodate his huge horns on his solid skull. He roared with anguish when the black trilby, the one he really fancied, kept popping off between his horns. The thing that made it worse was that the crows sat on his straw roof, sat in their black waistcoats and own stylish hats, were sniggering and cawing with laughter. He could hear them clearly. They’d been sitting there when he’d been struggling to carry eight hats in his two fingerless hooves (because hooves don’t have fingers), when he’d nearly stumbled down the muddy hill to his cabin.

Smoke was now puffing from his ringed nostils as he threw the trilby across the straw. The flat cap had slid down his nose and the two straw hats had ripped to shreds after he’d pulled on them too hard and his horns had punctured two huge holes in the top. He’d thought them too feminine anyway once he had them on and looked into his water trough.

He accidentally stamped on the bowler hat and had to hop around and shake it off, much to the crows’ amusement. The hat that he really liked, with ribbons and flowers and beads, was much too delicate for his hooves and became like christmas decorations on his floor. The two remaining hats, one that was thick and warm, and another much the same but with a bobbly top, flung across the cabin like a catapult when he tried to stretch both over his horns.

As the crows cried with laughter at the sound of the bull’s anger, they didn’t hear him open his wooden door and didn’t see him stood directly below them, seething between his stumpy teeth. With a bolt of immense strength and solid muscle, the bull headbutted the roof of his cabin, and the crows fell with a unified shriek. Before they knew what was happening, the bull stamped and stomped on the crows, and only a couple managed to fly away quick enough.

And although the bull never really realised that the reason the hats hadn’t fitted him, because they were made for human heads and not bulls heads, he managed to make his own hat from a collection of feathers, that allowed his horns to fit through and made him look very stylish. And the crows never laughed at him again, or even sat on the roof of his house for that matter.



Author: paganpages

Writer of weird fiction, lover of coffee and stories with a twist.

5 thoughts on “Eight Bull Hats”

  1. Person.. I am not significantly into reading, but in some way I got to see lots of articles on your blog site. Its wonderful how fascinating it is will visit an individual very often. qrieymbzn

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