Special Report: Cobalt Steele Loses Testicle in Bizarre Dairy Farm accident.
by Rosalynd Van Dyke.

Generally, I am not put on assignment, as most of my previous editors feel I am too brash and honest to be sent among the masses. Here at YAD, however, I intend to change that. Though I may not have a lot of experience as a narrative investigative journalist, dammit if I’m not a good one. I am a scoop magnet. For instance, last Monday morning, I came into the office to find I had received a telegram:

“Cobalt Steele injured stop now only half a man stop go to circle j ranch stop a friend stop”

I simply could not ignore the intrigue of this telegram; so cryptic yet so… newsworthy. If I were to approach this, however, I would have to be careful. If this turned out to be embarrassing, well… Steele is a prideful man whose fragile ego is guarded heavily by both a penchant for slander and his own personal sniper (seriously). Putting my journalistic integrity ahead of my personal well-being, I decided to risk it. As long as I have my sources straight, he can’t do anything, at least not legally. I figured since he had been injured, I should check the hospital first. I tried to get copies of the records, but the attendant told me it was illegal for her to show them to me. When I told her who I was inquiring after, her face changed from a helpful tan to a brimstone red. “Yeah, He was here. I think he lost a b@ll or something. Son of a bitch still tried to get me to go down on him.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! Cobalt Steele “The Man’s Man’s Man About Town” had lost half of his “manliness”? This was turning out to be a better story than I expected, not to mention the fact that he solicited oral sex from that poor girl while he was still healing! My work was done at the hospital. What I had found there only raised more questions about how the circle J ranch could possibly be involved. It is quite a haul from the hospital to the Ranch, which leads me to believe that Mr. Steele is probably lucky he did not bleed to death if in fact he was partially castrated; there is no such thing as a testicular tourniquet.

I would like to state immediately that I do not approve of Ranches or Carnivorism in General. If I could have trusted this job to anyone else, I would have. The Circle J ranch was just as I had imagined it. It had a big wooden fence with an Iron arch above the gate proclaiming the Ranch’s name to the world. Pastures spread out on either side of the entrance road and as I drove through the arch, I noticed there was a baseball cap lying in the pasture. I could just barely make out what it said. “Major League Player.” Ahhh, that must be Steele’s Baseball Cap, I thought, just another piece of evidence that he was here. In the distance, I saw the poor cattle, waiting to be slaughtered by Rancher Mondo Cain whom I called about an hour before. He was waiting for me on his porch. I knew I would have to suppress my disgust for his lifestyle in order to get good information out of him but dammit if it would not be hard. This disgust ultimately worked in my favor as it forced me to waste no breath on useless niceties. Cain confirmed that Steele was there a few days ago and that he infact did lose a testicle. “Well, nothing like this ever happened before. I weren’t there at the time of the devourin’, but I heard the scream and came running. All I saw was a lot of blood and an embarrassed looking Cow. I rushed him to the hospital we made a kinda diaper out of towels’n what not to try to stop the bleedin’ but if you’ll look at the inside of m’car, you’ll find out how well that worked.” That was all I needed. But I figured I would approach Steele himself in case he wanted a word. Of course, Mr. Steele declined to comment. But then again, wouldn’t you?