I like to hear the bull moo in fear as I hold it down in the dirt by its horns and eat it alive. I break its spine so it can't struggle and always make sure to look it in the eye during so it knows that, for all its muscle and strength, there is nothing it can do to stop me, to save itself. "It" has to know that it was never a bull, but always my prey, doomed to be consumed in this way. Savagely, painfully, remorselessly, and shamefully. I eat everything but the upper torso and head, then nick the jugular and leave it for the crows. I walk away, a broken smile stretched across my bloody face. [spoiler]this got real -blam!-ed real fast and I couldn't stop it. I take my steak medium btw[/spoiler]