Due to the fact that I feel guilty about not putting anything up recently informing about my current goings-on (which things have been happening and stuff and things and blah), I decided to share this story that I wrote with you today. I will preface this with that I wrote this under a mindset that would best be described as...disturbed. I think that's enough detail.
I was responding to a friend's e-mail where the subject line she sent me was: "Who'd have thought it was possible to miss sheep?"
Here was my response:
You know, I think that it is possible to miss sheep. Once when I was a very small child, I had a small sheep; I named him Reginald McFluffypants of Yorkshire the III (or Reg, for short). Well, Reg and I would do all sorts of activities together to pass the time: boggle, running, crocheting, shuffleboard; we were the best of friends. Then one day while I was at school, Reginald decided that he needed more stimulation in life. "Life isn't just about shuffleboard! I need something more. MORE I SAY!" With that, he slammed the door and I didn't hear from him for a long time. That was until one day when I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize.
Upon answering, I could tell that it was Reginald. He had sold his fur to buy carrots and had nothing left to sell (oh, he was also heavily addicted to crack). I searched the dank city far and wide until I found the small hovel he was staying in. "No, don't look at me!" he said as I walked in the door. He was on a stained mattress with a bottle of coke and a loaf of bread surrounding him; it was bleak. "Ryan...I don't have long..." he whispered in my ear, "But I just wanted to say...I always hated shuffleboard." With that out of the way, Reginald died in my arms, leaving me nothing but a cold husk and shoddy lambskin.
Happy first week of school.
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