Our Dan is groovy as well as spicy. He's got the patched bell-bottoms, the sandals, the vest. The granny glasses. The headband. The scraggly goatee. The peace sign around his neck. He's got the attitude: catch his groovin'-on-nature vibe, the way he gives the world the thumbs up. He's a hippie and he is at one.
The cow—let's call her, oh, Rainbow—is a beautiful spirit, too. She's got the hooves and the horns and the udder and everything? Life is fine. The pasture is, like, green. I mean it's green, you know? And right there, with her every step, there's Dan. These two, they are, like, together. Togetherness is a beautiful thing, man.
But something's not right. Something is wrong. Rainbow's got the pasture, right? The fields? The green? She's smiling, you know? But the smile, it's not on the inside. Her heart isn't smiling. She wants to check out. As in check out. The pasture's not enough for Rainbow. But while this is going on, like, where's Dan? He's there, but he's, like, not there. It's almost like he wants her to leave it all behind and join the Universe, you know?
A theory: Spicy Dan is The Man. Ask yourself: would a real hippie sell out his sister? No way. He would talk her down. Show her the sunrise after her dark—dark—night! Wouldn't he, like, get her through this shit? A real hippie would do that. But that's not, like, Dan's trip. He's just thinking about all the jerky he's about to score.
Like, total betrayal.