Friday stood in the middle of the bullfighting ring

attired like the traditional Matador, holding a large red cape. Thousands of fans clapped and cheered expectantly. Then entering the ring at tremendous speed, was a gigantic Bull. It pulled up throwing it's huge skull and massive horns around in a dangerous display. Then it pawed the ground with an iron hoof. It's eyes locked on Friday and his large red cape.

(BTW - the author would like to interject here, that this particular Friday post is an EPIC. I hope you have the time.)

"Why is he doing this again?" Asked Thursday, just now sitting down with a bag of aromatic mini-doughnuts.
"Some sort of post-Groundhog's Day Fertility Rite. At least that's kinda the gist of what I thought he was saying. I didn't much care, I had a Japanese woman walking on my back at the time." Says Monday, taking a sip of Mexican beer.
"Isn't globalization wonderful?" Wednesday spoke in a hopeful statement/question.
"It does seem to bring people together. Tho, sometimes, they don't get along so good, once they're in the same spot." Tuesday said, watching the ring intently.

The massive Bull charged forward, and ran through Friday's outstretched cape. The crowd cheered madly. The Bull skidded to a quick stop, sending up geysers of sand from it's hooves. Then, it turned and ran towards Friday again! It was much closer this time, and Friday moved quick, made a sideways turn, and the Bull once again rushed through the rich red fabric. However, more wheels turned in the massive Bull's brain than the once-again-cheering-crowd gave it credit for. The Bull didn't stop and turn for another pass. Instead, it covered the distance of the ring with massive pounding strides. Then it struck the door full on.

The door groaned. The door held. Then the crossbeam across the back broke in two!

The doors exploded back off the powerful shoulders of the Bull, and the massive creature continued through the tunnel with more straining rending sounds filtering back. The crowd went silent. Nothing like this had happened at the bullfighting ring since 1732. And even then, not many people believed it happened. The crowd waited for something to happen. Then Friday, with a furl of his red cape, raced after.

The crowd exploded! Cheers and yells and whistles rained down on Friday as he rushed after the mighty Bull. Then he disappeared.

"Whaddaya say we hit the taco stand?" Said Monday.
"Sure!" The rest replied. And they drifted with the slow moving crowd out of the ring.

Friday ran. Friday ran fast. Friday couldn't remember the last time he had run as fast and as far as he was - at the moment. Cobblestone streets, and buildings built next to each other in such proximity that they basically formed an alley - was his course. He could tell from the shocked look of pedestrians, the small cars, pulled off on sidewalks, and small vendor-carts overturned, that he was on the right trail. However, he still could not catch a sight of his quarry. Far off a woman screamed. He tried to keep his aching legs moving, and pumped his arms to try and help keep his speed.

In front of him, a three-wheeled meter-maid vehicle was overturned. A man in a traffic-cop uniform lay against the curb with a gash on his head. Friday ran to the small vehicle, and righted it. He hopped into it's single seat, and took off in a puttering cloud of dust. The meter-maid (er...man) tried vainly to get up and stop him, but was far too groggy and slow. He watched his ride zip away, and disappear around the corner. He just sat back down on the curb, and wondered what the hell just happened.

Friday's cape billowed out from the right side of the 3-wheeled contraption. His Matador's hat was tilted rakishly on his head, and he peered through the dusty windshield, avoiding obstacles in his path. A cafe table - complete with umbrella in the street. A series of dented metal garbage cans. An overturned horse-drawn cart carrying fresh-cut sod. A flood of water, and a number of large lobsters. Gradually, the city died out, and was replaced by dry, hard grassland. Friday slowed, and peered down at the ground. Sure enough, there was the track of some large animal. He followed after. His little ride tipped precariously over hills, dales, and around boulders, until it crept past dusk. He turned on the meter-maid-vehicle's light, and was still able to keep the trail, but at a crawl.

After night fell, and the moon crept up over the horizon, Friday stopped at the top of a valley. He looked down, and saw the lights of some small establishment. He picked a path, and drove down, the vehicle jumping and leaning and tipping as it hit unseen chunks of rock, earth or shrubs. He reached the place, and got out. It was a bar.

It was called "Animal Sanctuary." Underneath the neon sign was written "All are welcome."
In the lot were parked some 3-wheeled trike-bikes, a dune buggy, a couple of Range-Rovers (the old African explorer kind, not the new-fangled S.U.V types) and an old WW2 era American half-track. Friday heard strange bird-calls coming from the joint, but as he approached, realized it was just Martin Denny playing from a jukebox. He pushed open the door.

He took one step into the bar, and the music stopped with a horrible record-scratch. At the bar, an old Orangutan pulled the pump back on a shotgun, and pointed the dangerous end towards Friday.
"We don't take kindly to Matadors around here." He said.

Friday stopped for a moment, then adjusted his cap.
"It says all are welcome on the sign."
"Some are more welcome than others." The Orangutan said.
"I'm not really a Matador." Continued Friday, I was performing the Post-Groundhog Day Fertility Ritual. I don't even have a sword. I was just hoping I could have a moment with the Bull. A couple of words, I was pretty impressed."

The Orangutan slowly lowered the shotgun. A hyena in a biker jacket (part of a whole pack of them) got up from the booth, and moved in slo-mo, around to Friday's backside.
Friday walked calmly up to the bar.
"Could I get a whisky coke?"
"Okay." The Orangutan bartender had on a white apron, looking almost cute, had anyone not known he had a 12-gauge behind the bar, and knew how to use it. He made with subtle skill, a cocktail. Friday sat next to a rhinoceros, perched precariously on a barstool drinking a tanqueray and tonic. The rhino looked over.
"What are you looking at?" The Rhino asked accusingly.
"A rhino on a barstool. What's you're story?"
"Oh, just wandering around, looking at stuff, like any rhino."
"Right."

The Orangutan dropped the drink in front of Friday, who pulled out some bills and dropped them on the bar.
"Here he comes." Said the Orangutan. "Don't do nothin' stupid." He pointed his hairy Orangutan head over to a booth next to the Hyenas, and a table of black leopards looked dangerously at Friday.
"No Prob." Friday had a sip. Well, at least the bartender didn't stiff him on the cocktail. A massive anaconda slid past his legs on the way to the bathroom.

"Hey Bull!" Friday called out.
The Bull looked over, and gave a snort that actually shot steam out of his nostrils. Then his creepy Bull eyes rotated over to the Orangutan, who gave a little shrug in his white apron.
"What are you doing here." The Bull said in a voice that rattled bottles and glasses.
"Just wanted to let you know, I think you played that really, really well." Friday had a sip of his drink.
"What!?" The bull said in the same glass/bottle rattling voice.
"Look, you coulda' just ended up being made a fool of in front of five-thousand humans, and instead, took the only smart play, and got the hell out of there. I didn't care that much about the Post-Groundhog's day Fertility Rite that much. It was something that Venus put me up to."

The Bull walked over (mind you, all the animals at the bar were listening intently to how this was going to go down.) to the bar, and grabbed a tall dark drink, and drank it all in a snort.
"You mean Venus...the Goddess?" The bull rasped.
"Yeah." Friday replied, then took a good gulp himself. "No hard feelings, I hope."
"The Goddess?"
"Yeah. Just a thing..." Friday paused, "you know..."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Friday."

The Bull looked at the Orangutan, who already had another drink made, and was setting it in front of his hooves.

"Holy shit." The Bull said, "If I'd known it was you..." He raised his hoof to adjust the ring in his nose. "Let me buy you a drink!"

And with that, the bar exploded in cheers and howls and growls of approval. The music started up! A Hyena clapped Friday on the back! Two Gazelle moved up closely to look at Friday's face.

"Glad you could make it Friday," Said the Orangutan, "Didn't really expect you to ever show up...here."

"Yeah," Said Friday, "I get that a lot."

Happy Friday