The cow wasn't happy anymore. Another day, another chore. The food in front of her wasn't an incentive anymore. Yet the humans came and put a machine on her as they had before. She didn't love it, but hey; humans say that's what cows are for. No consent forms needed with four feet on the floor. That's what you get for being famous; it comes with fees. After all, the cow was famous for her...

Oh Riddonkulous, are you trying to bait or tempt me with this quest word? You’re probably trying to classify or label me as a dirty minded person

Gothic gave me a pose, monsters gave me a mob. I throw straw overhead, yet farming is my job.

I have witnessed every bad hair day, and kept every secret to myself.

What has no weight, can be seen by the naked eye and if you put it in a barrel, it makes the barrel lighter?