I thought to myself, as the ghostly cow floated off again through the door (yes, right through the damn thing. It was locked.), why the hell was I targeted for this piece of fecal terrorism from beyond the grave? It wasn't like the steak represented a huge percentage of her dead body. Shit, maybe the cow was going from victim to victim, defecating on the floors of every man and woman who had partaken of her flesh.
But that wasn't the real problem, in any case. Do you have any idea about how hard it is to remove ectoplasmic cow turd from a carpet?