And so the inexorable march was coming to fruition, thought the sheep with their one brain. There he was- Malcolm. Finally. By the tree. But who were those three bedraggled figures? At least I look alright, thought Christian. I cut a better figure with my new coat than Toby and Dodger. As for Malcolm- who did he think he was? Shakespeare at the very least, declaiming what sounded like magic spells to a tree. Oh for the good old days of a pint of warm ale and a chat about the latest LP he pretended he'd listened to but really just carried under his arm for effect. Those were the days. Now no girls looked at him- unless you counted those sheep. They were everywhere, they were, wherever he went. He couldn't make it out...
And so the inexorable march was coming to fruition, thought the sheep with their one brain. There he was- Malcolm. Finally. By the tree. But who were those three bedraggled figures?
ReplyDeleteAt least I look alright, thought Christian. I cut a better figure with my new coat than Toby and Dodger. As for Malcolm- who did he think he was? Shakespeare at the very least, declaiming what sounded like magic spells to a tree. Oh for the good old days of a pint of warm ale and a chat about the latest LP he pretended he'd listened to but really just carried under his arm for effect. Those were the days. Now no girls looked at him- unless you counted those sheep. They were everywhere, they were, wherever he went. He couldn't make it out...