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Hello. My name is Sammy The Seal. You'll notice I used capital letters
at the beginning of each word there instead of abiding by the
anticipated "Sammy the Seal" with the "the" starting off with a lower
case "t". This is because Sammy The Seal is in fact my full name, "The"
being my middle name. I am a sheep. A quaint animal, idiotic and
oblivious. Or at least that's how we're viewed by humans. But we don't
care. We know exactly what you're like. "Oh, I'm human. Top of the food
chain. I can kill and eat anything I wanted. Oh, I think I'll have a
sheep!". Filthy fuckers. I hope you rot. Nonetheless, I'm not here to
bicker or quarrel with you. In fact, what I'm asking for here is your
hand in friendship. I'll scratch your back, if you scratch mine and my
god have i got my scratching hands on. Paws. Whatever it is we have.
No, I speak of a greater foe. With humans, as sheep folklore goes,
you're taken away and simply killed. Quickly, painlessly and without
condemnation or humility. We then go on to fuel humans who, despite my
early bitching, we really depend upon to feed us and to sheer us as to
stop us overheating and getting sweaty in summer. That's right. I'll
let you eat my fellow sheep as long as come June, I'm stripped of my
coat. I digress. The problem here at hand is those dirty self obsessed,
lazy slag cows. Dirty bovine bastards.
Did I mention I have a strong New York accent? 'Cause I do and
it's something that you'll have trouble detecting through written word.
And were you to actually hear me, it wouldn't matter. Humans can't hear
sheep words, only sheep can hear sheep words. But we can hear human
words. You dirty bastards. Also why is the plural of man men and the
plural or woman is women yet the plural of human isn't humen? You fuck
ups. Nonetheless, back to the cows.
Giant beasts so they are; snobby, arrogant bastards too. Each day
as we arise from our slumber, feeling fresh and optimistic about the
day ahead, we're looked down upon by those damn cows. As I said, only
sheep can hear sheep words, and that's the same with cows and cow
words. We talk telepathically. At least, I think we do. I can hear
myself trying to talk to them. But they don't reply. Never any reply.
All they do is sit there, the lazy lumps, and eat grass. Some might say
that I'm hypocritical there but here's where my next bomb drop comes
in. Us sheep are here for a deeper meaning.
Ever wondered where people go when they die? Heaven or hell many
might say and, yes, they'd be right. But not immediately. You must've
heard of judgement day, a day in between your passing and your entry
into your next world. Good. Now where do you suppose this waiting room
is? Bingo! It isn't! There is no extravagant, gloriously white, titanic
room. You become a sheep. All sheep are dead souls. And you can tell
bits about what we were in our previous lives as humans. For example,
sheep that die young tend to have been young people. This is because
the young human didn't get to experience much of life and is thus
allowed to skip the queue for their appointment for judgement. Those
who have a lot to prove (such as murderers, rapists etc) tend to have
longer spells as sheep in shit conditions, ie they have to endure the
cold more or they're geographically positioned where they're more
likely to have golf balls fired at them. And they say every human has
the right to a fair trial.
But cows! Cows do nothing! I once heard they were into black magic
and abortion but these statement were pretty much unfounded and had no
substantial evidence to back them up. But still I attempt telepathy.
"Oi! Cow!"
...
"Cow!"
...
"Daisy! MILK MILK MILK!!!"
"Christ! What the hell do you actually want?!"
Taken aback, I feel silent, shock gripping my heart.
"Well, what do you want?!"
"Well...I...why have you never replied before?"
"Before what? What are you talking about?"
"All those times I've been calling you. All those days. Why did you never reply?"
"You never did call before just then."
"I did!"
"You did not!"
"I did!"
"Then I'd never heard you."
Suddenly it occurred to me that we'd finally, after all this time,
just broke through some sort of sheep-cow telepathic barrier.
"Oh God!" I squealed. "It's finally happening. It's finally happening!"
"What is?" asked Daisy (Yes, I got her name right when calling her.)
"Let's do it! Let's do it! Let's team up! Cows and sheep! We can
take over man (Yeah, I know I was asking for the friendship of man
earlier, but I've changed my mind) and let them know that animals reign
supreme! Like in that film. Babe the pig."
"Yes! Only...I have an enemy much greater than man for us to over
rule. A much greater species. A fine, pride specimen who trade for
hundreds, and thousands of pounds yet aren't thought of as a
traditional human food. A species that we must destroy, allowing cows
and sheep to breed together to form the ultimate animal."
"Yes! Yes! Tell me more!"
"I speak, of course, of the horse!"
I gasp. Stunned yet again, a quality this cow has on me. No sound
occurs for the next few seconds, I'm deep in thought concerning this
situation and Cow (I can call her what I want, okay?) obviously
respects this.
"Let's do it" I concur, "let's do it for the future and greater good of cows and sheep everywhere. I trust you have a plan."
"Of course. Come. Escape from your field, while I from mine and let's rendezvous on the road that separates our fields."
I silently agree and traverse towards the fence, and pass through it onto the road.
"Now here's my master plan."
BANG! BANG!
Both are shot dead by an eavesdropping horse.
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Posted by ckdba on 2007-11-04 19:05:12 | Rating: | Views: 73
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