Their Story

The desert

On a dark, high desert highway, way above the plains, a flash of lights moved ever so slowly on the shoulders of the road: a shooting star you could gaze at for moments and more, blinking all colors within the known universe.  If you got closer, you could hear humming; closer, you could see them maneuvering slightly to the sound of the music. The songs were familiar–though with a twist, a certain improvisation. They themselves sometimes looked surprised at the new take.
The singing and the lights weren’t the real surprise, though. Not when you noticed they were a flock of hybrid sheep, strung together on wheels, being dragged by a very, very, large sheep.
We were made aware of these sheep a while back and had decided to look them up in person, to find out more and to make sure they were not a product of some wishful thinking, a dream, or a fantasy.  The rumor was that these sheep were actually “trans species,” once human, now turned sheep.  And we were here, finally, to learn more.
As we caught up with them, our driver slowed down. We waved as we carefully passed. They didn’t seem fazed.  I remember counting: 12 white and one black sheep, then falling behind–it had almost put me to sleep.  We drove up a bit and stopped on the shoulder and started walking back to them.  They stopped as we reached them, and the singing stopped too.  We waved hello to the large sheep and went around to meet the others, when one by one, they–quietly at first, and then louder, and louder–said “what,” “what,” “what?” all in different tones and accents.
It was a rather tense moment, since they didn’t know of our visit and seemed a bit taken aback. Then I took a couple of steps forward, and after saying hello, apologized for our sudden appearance. They were still not happy.


I explained  that we were on a fact-finding mission and were bearing gifts.  This is when one of them yelled: “Yeah, baby,” and another at the same time gestured: “Pshhhh! Gifts, my tail.”  We brought out our gifts, which had all their names on them, but were the same for all: a martini set. They were amused.  We cracked open the bottles of vodka. Almost all of them seemed to be pleasantly surprised. By this time, we had moved inland in the desert and had started a big fire. We all gathered around. There were four of us and 13 of them, plus the very, very, large sheep, who remained quiet the entire time.
I was sitting next to to Mosie and Josie first. I told them they had started quite the stir in our office when the news of travels had come out. We were talking about the weather and the desert and nothing specific, when all of a sudden one of them, I think “Yousy,” got up and started singing:
Shearing sheep, don’t be a creep,
It’s the only way we’ll fly first, peeps.
Win the game, don’t be so lame,
Try to lose this and your face I’ll maim!
Nosie continued:
Shear the sheep, then, with a smile,
Make yourself a giant woolly, woolly, woolly pi-ile!
You had your chance and you turned him down,
So don’t be giving me no cranky frowns.
Then, as they were singing, one by one, they took out their shears.  We were laughing very hard and were trying to follow the song, but suddenly realized they were pointing the shears at us. They were coming closer to us with the shears drawn out, singing and click-clacking the blades.  I looked at my guys and saw they were all shocked. As I was trying to gather myself and think of something to say or do, they all of a sudden burst into laughter and told us they were fake shears and used only for dancing, as part of their costumes.
I got up and took one of the shears and realized the blades were wooden.  Then they gave us our own and we continued dancing together.
The next morning, we found ourselves passed out here and there on blankets and pillows.  I was hungover, but I was ecstatic about the night before.  Our first encounter with the iSheep was nothing less than amazing.  I couldn’t wait to continue the journey.
To be continued …