The Wooden Cow (a Novel)

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The image of one's wife's admired professor trespassing one's privacy is an affliction that words cannot depict. But that is not all. Is he the Minotaur?, the bull-headed monster, a teratoid, monstrous figure abhorred because of his inhuman character?, the outcome of the growing inhuman society of the new millennial wived professors of the country? Is his wife, he thought as he looked at her lying beside him asleep, like Pasiphae inside her wooden cow, waiting for him, her sacred white bull, to amble up and mount her? Does she mean that he had failed in his duty? It kind of hurt him now to realize that his cow is having thoughts of her own; thoughts he had never thought she would have.