the fat sheep

Donna Limbouris

Once upon a time there was a fat sheep called Marla. She was really, really stupid. She was the reason why, in human terms, it was insulting to be called a sheep. She was a twit. In fact, she was Twit Incarnate. Twit Personified. The epitome of Twit. She was such a twit that she made the perpetually infatuated, blonde, pre-pubescent farmer’s daughter look good. So we’ve established that Marla was really IQ deficient. There was nothing particularly wrong with this. She was a sheep and sheep are not particularly known for their Mensa capabilities. She had a friend called Jackson. Jackson was not a twit as far as sheep go, but it was rumored he had some goat in him. Marla and Jackson spent their days eating grass and clover in their fold with all the other sheep.

“So, Marla…”

“Mmmm…”

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that you’re eating?”

“Grass.”

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…”

Jackson was thinking deep and meaningful thoughts for a sheep. Something wasn’t right. This whole procedure…eating grass, sleeping, eating grass, sleeping…it just wasn’t right. He couldn’t put his cloven hoof on it and he doubted whether Marla would be any help. She was concentrating on the horsefly on the end of her nose. Her short tongue was at a funny angle, almost in one of her nostrils, in a futile attempt to get at the persistent insect

“Marla, if you shake your head it should leave you alone.” “Hey wow Jackson, that worked! Where did you learn that? You are quite a clever sheep!” “Well, I try.” Jackson looked around at the other sheep. They were scattered about the reasonably green field, all munching away. It wasn’t the best grass he had ever tasted, but everyone else seemed to be completely absorbed in it. There were two old Ewes complaining about the younger wanton girl sheep. Jackson looked back at Marla. She was chasing her tail. He sighed in frustration. He was rather confused.

 Inevitably, as with most days, the day ended and the sheep went to sleep in their fold. They fell asleep pretty quickly. The whole process of their walking around one by one, two, three, four, five, six...zzzzz... oh, sorry… was rather soporific. But Jackson couldn’t sleep. He looked up at the thousands of stars and wondered what his life meant. He was sick of eating grass. What was this little lamb in relation to the big sky? What purpose did merely eating grass the whole day serve? His thoughts were interrupted by an undignified snoring coming from Marla, who was lying on her back with her legs splayed in the air, dribbling. He cringed, unaware of himself. Jackson poked Marla in the stomach.

“I want the greener grass! Mmmm …ouch!”

“Marla get up!”

“Baaa! What’re you doing Jackson? No-one’s awake!”

“Precisely! We have done absolutely nothing the entire day other than eat this stupid grass and exert no energy whatsoever, but now everyone’s completely out for the count, only to wake up tomorrow and repeat the process.”

 “I don’t understand.”

“Marla don’t you see? Our lives mean nothing! All we do is eat grass! All we are is a living lawn mower.”

 “Well…the grass has to be cut, Jackson,” came an inadvertently profound response.

“There has to be something more. But what could it be?”

“Why don’t you ask someone?”

“But who? None of these sheep are interested in anything beyond a 1 metre radius of themselves.”

“Mmmm. There’s that sheep that sleeps in the entrance of the fold every night. The one with the hat.”

“Marla that’s a person. The shepherd. His name is Henry.”

“Oh. Well he looks different to all the other sheep. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Maybe I will ask him.”

“Ask him what?”

“MMMph!”

Jackson carefully made his way over the scattered, snoring sheep, trying to get to the entrance of the fold where Henry’s hat peeped. Henry was awake and staring up into the sky.

“Ummm… Henry?”

“Aaah, Jackson. Good evening!”

“Er…good evening…but how do you know my name?”

“I know everybody’s name, Jackson. There’s your friend Marla.”

Marla was awake now and trying to get to Jackson over the sleeping sheep, though without much success.

“Henry, I have a question.”

“Okay…Let’s see what I can do for you.”

“I’m really confused. Everyday, we wake up and graze. Then we go to sleep. Then the next day, we wake up and graze…and the next, and the next, and the next! In fact I can’t remember a day where I haven’t done that.”

“So you want to know…”

“…What the deeper meaning of this is! I mean, I have no aversion to grass whatsoever… and it’s not like my life is difficult. But I look like all the other sheep, and I do what all the other sheep do. My existence pretty much has absolutely no bearing on anything.”

At this, the rather deflated Jackson flopped down in desperation. His sheep brain was over-worked with all this philosophizing.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for one of you to come talk to me about this?” said Henry, smiling. “Finally!”

“What do you mean Henry? I’m just not getting it.”

“Well you’re the first sheep that’s not satisfied with just being like all the other sheep that’s spoken up about it.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are. ‘Problem is, there’s quite a few sheep that are half way there but they get muddled. Do you know how many times I’ve had to leave this fold to go after one silly sheep who’s got fed up with the system and climbed through some hole in the wall or something? They try to do their own thing, only to get tangled in something outside or fall down a hole or get lost. Then there’s the whole ‘wolf’ element, but as of yet we haven’t lost one sheep. But I digress. The worst is when some revolutionary ‘Rambo’ sheep gets half an idea and leaves the fold, and others try and follow him. I mean I guess deep down they’re all after the same thing you are but they never ever talk to me about it!”

At this point Marla finally got to where Henry and Jackson were talking.

“Hello Henry!”

“Hey Marla, how are you?”

“Fine.” Jackson looked puzzled at Marla’s familiarity but he decided to let it slide. She just sat down in between the two of them and listened.

“So Henry… now what? All we’ve established that it’s too dangerous to leave the fold and that I’m sick of being a boring normal sheep, but now what do I do? Please help me! I can’t carry on living like this! You seem to know what’s going on…Please?”

“Okay Jackson, calm down! Now think. Every day the sheep wake up in this fold. They then walk around this fold and eat the grass in this fold. Are you aware that there is a whole world beyond this fold?”

“Well, not really…”

“And are you aware that I don’t close the gate except at night?”

“Are you suggesting that I leave the fold? I thought that that was too dangerous!”

“You are welcome to come with me Jackson. I have a rather large stick.”

“Oh. Oh! Well! Yes! Okay! I think I understand!”

“I don’t.” said Marla. “So how about tomorrow Jackson?”

“That sounds wonderful, Henry! I can’t wait. What an adventure!”

“Can I come too?” Marla bleated.

“Anyone can come Marla! Anyone!” Jackson bleated twice, and fell asleep.

The next day when Jackson woke up, he was still in the same sheepfold. In fact, it was exactly as it had looked the previous day. All the same sheep were awake, and grazing on the same grass. But Jackson looked at Henry, and Henry winked at him. Jackson knew that an exciting adventure would be starting that day, and he made it his business to invite all the other sheep to join in.

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