The B Game

Hi. I'm a buffalo. My name is, well you can call me anything you want. Just put a bell on me and I'm yours. I'm from India and I love bread for fodder.Yesterday was not such a good day, well in fact none of these days have been good. Jon, my friend, was taken to the slaughter house day before.We all know our days will come to be taken to that scary place but Jon expected a few days more here at the barn with us. We play this game called who-gets-who. Its a simple game. We guess who gets to eat us after we are slaughtered and made into buffalo meat or "beef", as we are easily and incorrectly called. Whether it could be Kerala, Bangalore or Delhi. The night before he was taken away from us we were playing this game and Jon said he wished he went into Delhi's plate. I asked him why, considering the marginal amount of north Indians who consumed us, the stigma with which some of them treated those who dared to eat us and the current Government's aversion towards us. Jon's answer surprised me. He said. "Look buff, I had a dream last night that some fanatics walked into the hotel where I was about to be served and tagged me "beef" and so did not let me be savored. If I can't get into Delhi's plate today its never gonna happen again. I wanna be the last batch of  "beef" to be served before anything goes wrong." But unfortunately, this morning I woke up to the news that Jon couldn't be served as his goddamn dream came true. I don't know if you understand a friend's sorrow caused by a dead friend's unfulfilled dream. That was yesterday.
Today's a bright new day. I'm being taken to the slaughter house and I haven't felt happier. I heard things have changed since Jon was looked down at. A lot of our meat is finishing off in hotels in no time. I'm planning to fulfill Jon's dream through my meat.
Wish me luck!

Yours truly,
Buffalo