A very short story about a lamb and life in general.

“Yes,” said the lamb.  “I know a girl named Mary.”

“Do you follow her to school each day?” asked the man.

“Why would I do that?”

“I thought lambs followed Mary to school.”

“I don’t. The school’s right over there,” said the lamb, looking across the street. “I’ve never seen lambs at the school.”

“So you aren’t the lamb in the nursery rhyme?”

“What nursery rhyme?”

“The one about Mary and her little lamb.”

“I’m unfamiliar with that rhyme,” sighed the lamb, “and I’m busy, so what do you want?”

“I just thought…” stammered the man.

“I think you should go away,” said the lamb, “or I’ll call my mom and dad.”

“I thought lambs were nice.”

“We know humans are deadly.”

“Not all of us,” he said.

“BAAAAAAAAAAAH  BAAAAAAAH,” wailed the lamb.

The man turned and ran, as two huge sheep quickly made their way toward him.

Life’s like that, you know.  We don’t really know which lamb the rhyme was written about, and we never know which humans are deadly, until it’s too late.

 

 

Photo:  Jessica Fadel
Unsplash

 

 

 

The gathering…a short story about bells and sheep.

The flock got together to try and figure out how to get the bloody bells off of their necks.  They were going insane.  Not only did the bells constantly make noise with every step they took, it they rang when others walked as well, so there was never any peace.  They wanted to kill the farmer who put the bells around their necks, but didn’t see how that would solve their problem, even if it would make them all very happy.  Someone suggested attaching a bell to HIS neck and that got a smattering of baaaaa’s.

After a half hour of grazing, Alberta, the black sheep in the group (she’s in the back, on the right), said they should bite the straps off of each other. All the sheep thought that was a great idea, but they were a bit twitchy taking advice from the black sheep in the family.  After all, she never followed the rules and refused to consider herself a member of the HERD.  She said she was an individual, not a group.

After much baaaing and walking around, they all agreed to try.  So they started gnawing on the strap that held the bells around their necks.  Eventually, they worked the leather into a thin enough strip that they could catch it on a branch and pull it until the strap broke.

The black sheep was happy to have helped.  When everyone was bell free, she said she was striking out on her own, because if she went back to the barn, the man would just attach another bell to her neck and she wasn’t having any of it.

The other sheep considered that fact and decided to follow her.  Sheep like to follow someone, it makes them feel safe, even if it’s not for their own good.  The black sheep turned to the others and said, “This is what the government is all about.  One side removes the bells, and the other side, not only wants to put the bells on us, they want to tighten the strap until we can’t breath.  It’s time we have a third party, the freedom party, where sheep have a say in what happens to them.”

The sheep grunted and started walking after the black sheep, toward whatever was waiting for them.

 

Photo:  Jürgen Scheeff
Unsplash

Sheep in the yard…

sheep in the yard

hard for a city kid
to imagine

there were no
wooly
ewes
or
lambs
grazing
when I looked
out of my window

not in
Chicago

no fuzzy friends
baaaaaaing
behind the
apartment buildings
or bungalows
not a single sheep
in any of the
alleys
or
standing on the
street

just squirrels
sitting on our laps
begging for
whatever we had
to eat

so squirrels
are the
ones
we loved

we would have loved
sheep too
if we had
had any

but all we ever had
were

squirrels

The Night before Sheepmas…a poem

twas the night before Sheepmas
and all through the herd
the sheep were all chatting
I knew not a word
they giggled
and snorted
and shook out
their fur
the holidays
moved swiftly
it all seemed
a blur
I made them all scarfs
which I tied ’round
their necks
they said they weren’t cold
but oh
what the heck
so they thanked me
and mumbled
my dear
tell me why
you’re out with our herd
when the moon’s in the sky
I just shrugged my shoulders
and rubbed at my eyes
the sheep gathered ’round me
and started to sigh
you love us
confess
and you wanted to see
what sheepmas
was like
but between you and me
you’re freezing out here
cuz your coat isn’t warm
your being out here is quite far
from the norm
so hug us and kiss us
and bid us good night
just having you here
filled our hearts with delight
so she went through the heard
with great love in her heart
and gave the brand new year
a fabulous start

Life goes on…

Pixabay

“I’m not ready to give up performance art but the electric shock from the tree lights didn’t feel good, I can tell you that. And was what that odor?  It smelled like something was burning.”

“You were burning but still, you made a great looking tree, for a few minutes.”

“Thank you.  The wool on my hindquarters will look normal again soon. I hope.”

“I’m sure it will, so what will you do next?”

“I don’t want to give up.  I mean, performance art serves a purpose.  It’s immediate and political.”

“Everything is political.”

“That’s true but I can reach more sheep through this kind of art than I ever could through my books.  A lot of sheep don’t even bother to learn how to read and they stop going to school far too early.”

“We need to make school fun.  Perhaps you could do your art in the classroom, as well as in the meadow.”

“It’s a thought.”

“We don’t celebrate christmas anyway.  We should make more of Sheepmas.  Get special colored lights and make signs.  We can do fun things for the lambs, they would love that.”

“Like the chicklets do at The Coop?”

“Exactly.  You know how much we love their parties.”

“We can sing and dance and have ice cream.”

“Wonderful.  Let’s make a list.”

“This is going to be great.”

“We can ask the chicklets to help us.”

“They would be happy to do that.  We can also just go to their party and bring all the lambs with us.”

“That’s would be a lot easier and a lot less work.”

“We can go early and help the chicklets set things up.”

“I love their cornbread.”

“Holly makes some of it.  She’s a poet, you know.”

“She’s a human too, which just goes to show that they also have skills.”

“So true.  We don’t give them enough credit.  Well, I’ll get in touch with the hens and see if they will have us.”

“You know they will.”

“I’m just being polite, since they invite us every year.”

“Baaa.”

 

Sheep and life…

pixabay

“I’m giving up acting.”

“Why?  It’s what you’ve always wanted to do.”

“Not any more.  Last year I stood on hay and bleated at a plastic doll in a wooden box all night while a flickering star flashed on and off until I thought I would faint.”

“We do suffer for our art.”

“I was thinking of taking up painting.  It could be my true calling.”

“One never knows until one tries.”

“I mean, I’m sure you didn’t grow up thinking you would be a writer.”

“I did not.  I spent a lot of time with my mom, frolicking in the pasture.”

“And look at you now.  Lecturing to other sheep, telling stories.  I think you’re wonderful.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s your next book going to be about?”

“I’m actually thinking about becoming a performance artist.”

“Seriously?”

“It offers so many opportunities and I won’t be alone thinking about the next sentence any longer.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m going to tie-dye myself and do hippy things, to bring back the Love & Peace era.”

“I was thinking more for Christmas.”

“Oh, yes, I’m going to dye myself green, wrap myself in lights, and be a tree.”

“Brilliant!”

“I thought so.”

“Perhaps I’ll get a camera and become a photographer.  You can be my first layout.  After that we can use my photographs to make a book and you can write the text.”

“A partnership?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.  Let’s do it.”

“Life provides us with unlimited options.”

“Indeed.  Now get your camera.  I’m going to the dying shed.”

“I’ll bring the lights, as well.”

“Baaaa.”