The bull made a final pass, and the matador bowed before the crowd. He revealed a sword and waved his cape.
This ornate and ancient spectacle had come to the anticipated conclusion. The matador remained untouched and undefeated. Just as the first flowers reached the arena floor, he raised his sword and prepared to dispatch another hopeless beast.
Turning to the bull, a rush of terror ripped through the matador. He could not believe his eyes.
The bull had reared up and fumbled a revolver between two hooves. The matador dropped his sword and muleta.
“Never again,” the bull mooed.