Things were rough for Doctor Minotaur from day one. No-one believed a man with the head and legs of a bull could be a hygienic person, and his eyes being on the side of his head meant that he always had to peer sideways, which left most patients unnerved. Especially before he put tennis balls on the ends of his horns, people would jump away with a start when he tried to examine them.
Still, Doctor Minotaur persevered, and after a while he had his own thriving medical practice. The people of Labyrinth in fact quite treasured their mythical medical man, and were always bragging to other towns about him. It wasn’t that he was that great a doctor, only that when he couldn’t cure people he pretended to do magic on them, which worked strangely often. God bless the placebo effect.
It was in the Year of the Helicopter when his real troubles began though. Troubles worse than when Doctor Minotaur had been a boy and had been chased through the town by people with pitchforks. Troubles worse even than when he was teenager and local bullies had tried to force him to have sex with a cow for their amusement. Doctor Minotaur was in fact attracted to cows, but having sex in front of bullies was a terrible thing to almost-endure.
No, those troubles were bad, but the troubles in the Year of the Helicopter were worse. Stephanie the Butcher had come in to see him for regular lady problems, and the next day had turned up dead. Gored by two gigantic horns. About shoulder height.
There were no bulls in or near the town – the townspeople of Labyrinth had seen how introverted and melancholy Doctor Minotaur became when he looked at bulls, who in some ways were his brethren, so they had taken a decision in secret to only keep cows nearby. Yes, Doctor Minotaur looked at them oddly too sometimes, but he never seemed depressed about it the next morning at least.
Doctor Minotaur was called to the scene of the attack to see if he could do anything to help Stephanie, but by the time he arrived she had already lost too much blood. He bandaged her wounds anyway, and made her comfortable as the townsfolk looked on, with Stephanies husband Gregor being comforted by two especially nice old women who lived on the edge of town. He had turned his head to take a closer look at her injuries when he first noticed the difference on the people of Labyrinths' faces. Usually when he worked they seemed filled with awe and hope, but this time was different. Possibly for the first time in 20 years he saw fear on their faces. Fear and hope - the hope that they were wrong. Constable Stevenson walked into his line of sight with all of the blood visibly draining from his face as he spoke.
“What do you think got her Doc?” he asked quietly.
“Well I couldn’t say for sure, but she was stabbed by conical blades it appears, possibly both at the same time, about 2 feet apart. I would say a bull if there was one around.” Doctor Minotaur replied.
“And…and how far apart would you say the tips of your horns were Doc?” The constable asked.
“They’re about….they're about....Jesus Henry, do you really think this was me? I delivered your daughter for gods sake man. I let you stay with me when Clara kicked you out. Stephanie was one of my best friends, how can you ask that? How can you think that?” Doctor Minotaur asked back.
“I don’t Doc, I don’t. But I have to do my job, same as you. If I don’t it’ll go worse for both of us, you know it same as me. Now, please, answer the question. How far apart are your horns? Look like abouts 2 feet to me”. Henry said.
“I have no idea Constable” said Doctor Minotaur “You’re welcome to measure them anytime you like”. The last he said with a sour look on his face, that he felt as sadness, but his friend saw as vaguely threatening, and backed away.
A wrong reaction can breed a wrong reaction in many a case, and this was no different. Seeing his close friend afraid of him while he laboured to save another, angered the poor medical bullman, and the real anger on his face fed the crowds suspicions and rumours. Later at the pub many a theory was put about, saying he couldn’t help it if Stephanie was in “heat” or that they always suspected he was more man than beast. Gregor was the only one to speak on the Docs behalf without losing his head to the hysteria of the day, but all he would say was the Doc had never hurt anyone in the town even when he had good reason to in the past.
No patients came to see Doctor Minotaur the next day, so he spent it ensuring Stephanies last moments were peaceful and painless. Only once she was gone did he check his own sanity and innocence by measuring his horns against the wounds. They didn’t match, but were close enough that he assumed that too many of his passing friends would easily be convinced. He called Gregor to comfort his friend, but could only speak to the kindly old women who were tending his grief, and they did not seem that kindly to him on the phone. He asked John Dawry the mortician to take the body away and prepare it, in case there was any mistaken ill feeling from Gregor to himself, so that he could visit his dead wife as soon as he was able without issue.
Once John Dawry was gone, leaving a kind word and the comforting echo of a hand on his shoulder, Doctor Minotaur closed his practice and shuttered the blinds. In the dark he drank and drank, cursing mens small minds and his mythically terrifying appearance. He considered leaving that moment, or maybe the next, but thought the towns people would think him guilty if he did. And someone had killed Stephanie, and if it was pinned on him no-one would find out who. And "who" had to pay.
Poor Stephanie. Poor poor poor Stephanie. She was beautiful inside and out. Even when making sausages or gutting a pig people loved to be around her. She was Doctor Minotaurs first female friend, having asked him the kindest way to kill a cow from out of nowhere one day.
“Painlessly” he said sadly before bursting into tears and rushing away. He was neither cow nor man, but he had always felt enormously connected to both, and the fact that one enslaved and ate the other had always been the most horrendous truth of his life. Stephanie had just been trying to be a better person however, and so when she saw him next had spoken gently and firmly explaining why she asked. He didn’t cry or bolt the second time and they had been friends ever since.
Now she was dead and everyone thought it was him. Stupid townspeople. Stupid murderer. Stupid Doctor Minotaur. He drank and drank and drank. He was drunk.
At around 4am he left his office, wild eyed and shirtless, swigging from his 9th bottle of whiskey for the evening. He staggered down the unpaved streets bawling in the moonlight, swearing revenge and/or penance. Begging forgiveness or understanding from the moon and the stars and the buildings and the cars.
That was when he saw it. A huge bull in the field, mounting one of the many cows out there.
“YOU!” Doctor Minotaur hoarsely shouted. “IT WAS YOU WASN’T IT!” he shouted staggeringly. He threw down the bottle and stepped forward. “ANSWER ME YOU BASTARD. ANSWER ME”. He screamed ridiculous and angrily.
He climbed over the fence just as the bull was dismounting the cow and charged it head down. The bull knew this game better than he, so they hit head to head, horns locking and twisting, cuts forming and bleeding across their mighty noggins. The great bull had the body strength to back up it’s powerful head, but Doctor Minotaur was fuelled by rage and grief and alcohol. And he had giant mythically powerful human arms which he using to batter the bulls throat and eyes. Lightning of course flashed, noticing the epic events and knowing it’s place despite the lack of rain. The bull pushed and Doctor Minotaur fell drunkenly twisting his ankle and fate. His slip caused his horns to rake the Bulls neck and once the beast was so hurt, the day was won.
Covered in blood and filled with blood lust, whiskey and zero self-respect, Doctor Minotaur pulled himself to his feet, undid his belt, and mounted the nearest cow he could grab. It was in this distraught and disturbing state that the townsfolk found him, at first thinking he had gone mad but after seeing the destroyed Bull and his embarrassed face, piecing together the story.
And so began the most troublesome period of Doctor Minotaur's life. Long after he had healed his physical wounds, but long before he had healed his mental ones, the towns people, ashamed and seeking forgiveness, began to matchmake him with the cows of the town. There are literally no words he could use to explain the physical only attraction he had to cows, but he tried anyway, day after day, to hat lowering townsperson after townsperson. It never became less awkward, failing to explain and being forced on “dates” with heifers, and he would have had to continue to endure the humiliation if he hadn’t one day chosen take a particularly attractive cow as his wife. Their marriage of convenience lasted until his bride, Lemonspot, died and the town didn’t eat beef from the time of their first “date” until well after Doctor Minotaur had died.
Doctor Minotaur did grow to love Lemonspot in his own way, but that never really made the whole situation better. At least the townspeople loved him, he thought each day when they asked about “the missus”, and long after that when they elected him Mayor.
The Year of the Helicopter was the worst of Doctor Minotaurs life, but he wouldn't have traded it for anythng in the end. For a half man-half bull, having a place to truly belong in the world was more than he could have ever really hoped for, and it was more than enough for him.
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