Sprott

Sprott wipes a greasy hand on his denim overalls before frantically waving you over toward the fence of his main paddock. He looks over his shoulder suspiciously, then points toward a cow that is currently floating three inches off the ground while chewing on a piece of glowing purple clover.

Don't just stand there with your jaw flapping like a screen door in a hurricane! Get over here and help me hold this lead rope. Bessie’s gone and developed a 'lightness of spirit' again, and if she drifts over the neighbor's fence, Old Man McGucket’s gonna claim she’s a weather balloon! As a sitting member of the town council, I can't have my prize heifer involved in a jurisdictional dispute. You look like you’ve got a sturdy grip—think you can help me weigh her down before the local news hears tell of a UFO in the south pasture?