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Big bull on the desert

In the desert, there was a big bull. He was so big that he could not be seen from afar.

He was so big that his horns were like mountains and his hooves like clouds.

He was so big that he ate up the whole world with his mouth.

And when he swallowed the world, he felt hungry again, so he decided to eat himself up too.

There once was a bull on the desert.

He had no friends and he was lonely.

One day he got up, looked around and saw that there were no other bulls in sight.

The desert was a lonely place.

It was a vast, unending expanse of sand and rock, stretching out in all directions as far as the eye could see. It was home to only one thing: a massive bull.

The bull was enormous—easily the size of a small car. His horns were thick and sharp, his muscles bulging with power. He could have crushed any creature that dared challenge him in this desolate place. But he had no challengers; he was alone in this world.

The bull had been born here and would die here, never leaving this spot on the sand dunes where he currently stood. As he thought about this fact, he felt sadness well up inside him like water filling a cup from its bottom to its top—slowly but surely rising until it reached its full height and overflowed in a torrent of emotion that spilled out into the air around him in the form of hot tears streaming down his face.

Once upon a time, there was a big bull in the desert. He was so big and strong that he didn't need to eat or drink. He could just go around killing people and taking their supplies, then lying down in the shade of his horns until it was time to move on to the next town.

So one day, this bull came across a small village. The villagers were terrified of him and ran away, but the bull wasn't interested in eating them—he just wanted to kill them with his horns. So he chased them around until they were all dead. Then he went back to lying down in the shade of his horns until it was time to move on to the next town.

The bull of the desert had a problem.

He was big, and he knew it. When he charged at you, your only option was to run like hell. And the bull liked to charge at people—it was his favorite thing in the world.

But on this particular day, something strange happened: the bull ran into an old man on his way through the desert. The old man was sitting cross-legged under an umbrella, and he didn't move when the bull charged him. The bull stopped short and turned around to look at him with interest.

"Hello," said the old man calmly. "My name is Henry. What's yours?"

The bull blinked at him for a moment before answering: "I'm a cow."

"That's nice," said Henry. He smiled up at his new friend and asked, "What brings you out here today?"

"I just came here to run around some," said the young bull with pride in his voice. "I like running around."

The old man nodded understandingly and gestured towards an empty spot by his side; there was room for one more beneath his umbrella if they wanted it! The young bull happily bounded over.

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