So, being the Cow she is, she decided to put it to the test. Locking her car one evening, she mentioned loudly that it had been some time since it had been broken into. Next morning - no sign of a break-in, but a gashed tyre greeted her. (And, but she hadn't noticed, because the gashed tyre prevented further engagement with the car that day, some further fiddling which indicated a failed attempt at hotwiring. Yep, the Random-Prove-Me-Wrong-Squad!)
Since then, of course, they've made numerous appearances. To the extent that their existence is no longer questioned - monotheistic religions have been founded on shakier evidence. Like Romans automatically poured a libation to Bacchus when supping wine, and superstitious people touch wood or finger rabbits' feet without a thought, the Cow simply accepted the Random-Prove-Me-Wrong-Squad's presence fatalistically, and thought things very quietly if at all, for fear of waking them.
Until the other day. It was a perfect day for sundowners, and Danger Beach was the perfect place. But getting home was another story. "I know," she said cheerfully, heading the wrong way down Main Road, "Boyes Drive is always far less busy, we'll go that way!" Barely had she spoken when, rounding the corner, a string of vehicles came into sight. Her companion froze, blanched, grabbed his rosary. "The Random-Prove-Me-Wrong-Squad!" he gasped.
Wrong!! As they approached, the string of vehicles manifested as parked along the roadside, obviously visiting one of the houses for a party. The road itself was clear. The trip home lasted mere minutes.
Carnivorous Cow smiled. She knew that the non-traffic had nothing to do with the non-existence of the Random-Prove-Me-Wrong-Squad. Rather, it simply reinforced their existence. Had her companion not uttered aloud the fact that the string of vehicles spied ahead was due to them - requiring that to be proven wrong - they would indeed have found themselves back up in dreadful traffic. But she was very pleased that things had worked out for the best. So, when she got home, together with her libation to Bacchus, she offered up thanks to the literal-mindedness of the Random-Prove-Me-Wrong-Squad.