Search Results for 'sheep'

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  • #3767
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      “Strictly speaking, someone’s stolen several silly senseless sheep since Saturday,” said Sally Salamander sagely.

      #3762
      EricEric
      Keymaster

        The parrot reached for the like button like a sheep, but alas there was none.

        #3642
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          “Madam?” Norbert asked sheepishly “where shall I put the hundred pots of clematis you had Haki order yesterday?”
          Liz replied with a hint of exasperation “with the pergola, of course. Geez, Norbert. I thought you would have built and affixed it, by now…”

          #3550
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Corrie:

            Funny how things pop up. While Clove was taking supper to the guy in room 8, I signed into Spacenook and the first thing on my perusefeed was an article about maps.

            “Cartographies can be altered endlessly to reflect different priorities, hierarchies, experiences, points of view, and destinations.”

            How syncy is that. There was another sync like that yesterday, after the kitten fell off the barn roof. I was just posting a photo of the kitten on Spacenook and glanced at the sidebar and there was an ad for a catnip garden memories of dead cats group thing there. I wonder if that dream I had of our old dog Lilly the other day was because the kitten was a remanifestation of her? Lilly’s name was supposed to be Delilah, that’s what it said on her papers, Delilah, but nobody ever called her that. We always called her Lilly.

            Anyway, they come and they go, we’ve had hundreds of cats wander through this town, but they always come back. I saw a rat the other day and it reminded me of Boozer, the old sheepdog we had when we were little.

            Funny thing was, yesterday morning I’d posted this poem by Mary Oliver:

            “…. Tell me, what else should I have done?
            Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
            Tell me, what is it you plan to do
            With your one wild and precious life?”

            Made me feel a bit better when I read it again later, because I did wonder if I’d got there quicker when I heard it crying, when it must have been halfway done falling and stuck on a branch, it might not have ended up the way it did. It must have been meant to be that way I suppose. Well, she’ll be back. They always come back sooner or later.

            Sighing, I refocused on the article.

            “Maps produce new realities much as they seek to document current ones. Maps are always a going-beyond the space-time of the present.”

            No mention of a room full of map covered mannequins in the Brundy place though.

            #3513
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Of the original inhabitants of the town, few remained. There were a dozen or so old codgers, too old for change, whiling away their dry days on the state pension. A handful of young families had attempted to set up an alternative self sustainable cooperative, forming a little enclave on the outskirts of town, raising chickens, rabbits and sheep, and lots of naked unruly brats with ankle bracelets. The solar panels looked incongruously shiny and sharp against the backdrop of dust and dilapidation.

              #3400

              If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

              “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
              “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
              Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

              More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

              “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
              She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

              Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
              She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

              FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

              She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

              “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
              “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
              She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
              “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
              “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
              “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
              “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
              “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
              “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
              “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

              Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

              “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
              As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

              “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
              Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
              She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

              “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

              #3292
              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Hovering over the whales’ ballet, the St Germain Hologram very gracefully answered the question about his arms, in a flattering way that made Sadie slightly blush, even adding some mind-boggling clues about his Atlantean past lives.
                Interestingly, that answer was very profound and mind expanding, so much so that she was a bit dizzied.

                “May I ask another question?” she asked sheepishly.

                “You just did, mon petit. Now, please ask your last question so that I can transcend to this mysterious dimension called Peasland that I can’t wait to explore.”

                #3248
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  The dogs barking woke Lisa up; at first she assumed she had woken up disorientated and disgruntled because of that, but then she recalled all the screaming, no, more like bellowing, she’d been doing in her dream. Intense passionate bellowing howls, like an expulsion of pained frustrated energy, of outrage. Frustratingly, she recalled no details. There had been a similar dream the previous Easter when she was sick ~ the same kind of howls, and she had felt much better afterwards, but she wasn’t sick now ~ in fact, she had been feeling better than she had in a long time.
                  Sipping her tea and still feeling cranky at being woken up, Lisa recalled the strange phone call she’d received the night before, and had a feeling it might be an element of her dream. One of her neighbours from just outside the village phoned, Clarissa. Clarissa was a young widow; since her elderly husband had died some months ago, and she had lived alone with her eight dogs. There had been nobody to ensure she took the medication she needed for her condition, which had resulted in a series of challenging episodes, alarming the locals. A few weeks ago, one of Juan’s sheep had been talking to her and wouldn’t stop, so she killed it in the lane outside her house. The sheep kept talking to her, so she cut it’s head off (a gruesome struggle by all accounts, although thankfully Lisa hadn’t witnessed it herself). The severed sheeps head continued to talk to the troubled Clarissa, so she kept the head on her verandah. That was the last thing that Lisa had heard when she received the unexpected phone call.
                  Clarissa was polite and friendly on the phone, inviting Lisa and Jack over for drinks ~ insisting really with an edge of desperation in her voice. Lisa declined the invitition, and omitted to mention that Jack was out playing poker. If it had not been for the sheep incident, Lisa might have responded differently, but her sense of responsibility to her own animals made her cautious. Then, to her horror, Clarissa offered to come round and feed Lisa’s dogs.
                  As soon as the long and insistent phone call ended, Lisa gathered all the dogs up into the gated top patio; a little later she was gratified to hear a noisy game of football going on in the street outside. Had she over reacted? Should she have had more compassion for the distressed young woman? Lisa lit another cigarette, feeling confused. She had only met Clarissa once, many years ago, and had no idea why she had called her, or where she got her phone number from. She knew of her because of the convoluted connecting links between them ~ Clarissa’s husband had been her own friends father. And she had heard about the various incidents since he had died from other neighbours.
                  Lisa had the unsettling feeling that she had refused a call for help. On the other hand, she felt that she had responded to the call for help in merely speaking to Clarissa on the phone. Lisa had been kindly towards her, although not encouraging of any physical contact.
                  Lisa sighed. She felt a stronger connection to Clarissa now, but was unsure what it would entail.

                  #3126
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Is this a breach of time travelling protocol?” wondered Sadie. “Strictly speaking timewise, cork bums aren’t fashionable for another twenty years or so.”
                    “Well, I suppose that’s how trendsetters operate normally, how else would fashions change?” snapped Conseula, whose heart was set on a new Gilles Culeau bum. “And if you think I’m going to settle for the sheeps head wig currently popular, when those gorgeous elaborate confections of jewels and feathers are just a decade away, you’ve got another think coming!”
                    “I do think it would be wise to wait until we get there first before deciding on costumes, so that we fit in, you know, stay inconspicuous. Not only that, but are all these bums and whalebone hoops going to fit through the tunnel?”
                    “Incon fucking spicuous? Us? In this timeframe? Are you completely mad?” retorted Consuela. “Not fucking likely! Say, Chair, can you recommend a wig shop?”
                    Sadie sighed, and hoped the tunnel was very wide, and very high.

                    #2159

                    In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      “Sorry, for the tardiness dear” the dragon coughed in a midget voice. Lowering its voice, he added “I’ve been busy honing my herding sheep skills.”

                      “Well,” Flinella said “at least you’ve came. I was starting to think you were crushed under piles of dirt or something. Things have been rocky of late on this island…”
                      She looked inquisitively at the familiar snout “and I suppose you’ve smoked those poor sheep, haven’t you? The S’elves won’t be pleased.”

                      The dragon, actually a rather small dragon by all standards (the bane of his life was to be constantly mistaken for a karma chameleon), took the last remark in without retorting. That was ominous enough for Flinella who wasn’t accustomed to such absence of quick wit from his part.
                      The S’elves were a dissident faction of the Tw’elves. More ancient, some had said… though not as ancient as the Sh’elves —those went extinct or ascended a long while ago. Flinella was posted on the island to report on the shift progress and if possible, wreck havoc on any attempt at continent inuity.

                      “So far, so good…” she smiled pleased at her progress.

                      #2423

                      Sadly, Phurt’s couldn’t make any cobwebs other than all wireless —kind of defeated the purpose, when you gave it thought.
                      Reception and connection weren’t any of the new dwelling’s forte for now.

                      So she wrapped herself in a cozy dark corner of her new cave, tucked in a blanket of great warmth and subtle mucous design, and her nine eyelids being closed one after the other (from right to left, and top to bottom), started to dream of delicate and headless sheep.

                      #2394

                      The poor Peaslanders were utterly disoriented by the blatant lack of sense in the Eighth Dimension. It was such a blessing they had for most of them already lost their head, kept safe by a dear member of the family.

                      Once in front of them, the glowing figure uttered ominously:

                      “opened everyone eye ball,
                      Worserversity nonsense portal deep
                      sheila Elizabeth bird gone surprise
                      come speak thread
                      face cat Godfrey later create”

                      And then the figure disappeared in a fit of oink oink’s.

                      “I think it’s her shoes that make the strange sucking sounds in the mud” aptly remarked little Pickel.
                      “How come you know it was a ‘her’, it could have been a cloud as far as I know…” retorted Autie Toot who never got a chance to get a good look, with her head upside down in her arms.

                      “Silence!” ordered Pee Stoll more raucously than he had wished to “We need to concentrate! This riddle may be the clue to the plague of blubbits, can’t you see?!”
                      “Well… It’s not that easy, you know” Auntie Looh objected sheepishly, while still struggling with her garments as well as with her head.

                      “I think it’s fairly simple” ventured S’illy (whom nobody ever listened to, probably owing to her tender age as well as her melodious voice) “We got to find the Worseversity, they probably have worked on a cure; our contacts there will be a sheila called Elizabeth… and a Godfrey will provide a cat to eat the bird and put us back to our dimension…”

                      “Darn riddle!” sweared Pee furiously who hadn’t paid any attention “It’s probably just another bunch of nonsense!”
                      “I guess we’ll just go anywhere then!” merrily suggested the Aunts each going in opposite directions while the bird rolled its eyes.

                      #2790
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Some shaven sheep on the floor where mother goose got pens… that’s what I call giant game! Meddling it’s intricate design, and its daft words pointed to the distinct lack of any mention of God.

                        We’re talking threads, spinning a myth, warming and weaving, all meaningless beleifs with which to travel, peanuts that can’t be contained inside ones own weaving, in and out of the warped story, and the weft Text.

                        Viewers may be considerd to be a patchwork piece. These indiviual multitudes are loom weights to create a tapestry in the style, so to speak, of the background qualities of Finnley.

                        In this focus you choose this situation, that of God. You shall focus an attention to detail and perfection, balance, movement, with tremendous detail.

                        “Tell me about it” remarked God drily, offering challenging information. “The Sumari does not concern itself with Finnley” who stuck her tongue out at God, sighed in resignation and reached for the peanuts. “No point in fighting your warp.”

                        #2342

                        — “I’m sure some weaving of threads can be done at a later date if necessary, if it doesn’t weave itself. Did you see the weaving quotes?”
                        — “Well, it would be like asking shaven sheep to have their mops of hair on the floor weave themselves on their own…”
                        — “Text/textile ~ weaving a story, which was where mother goose came in!”
                        — “And how would she know the first thing about weaving, she’s only got feathers on her back!”
                        — “Ah but she weaves a good story”
                        — “She doesn’t,… she pensThat’s what I call weaving… We need more giant spiders! Are you still … game?”

                        #2614

                        In reply to: Strings of Nines

                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          Tina sighed AND rolled her eyes. A charming habit which she was not able to rid herself of.

                          Becky, she said in a slow and careful voice. She sighed again. If I may use an expression from my home land of Noo Zooland, trying to keep you on track is worse than herding bloody sheep.

                          #2237

                          “You know what?” Harvey was once again breaking the silence in an awkward manner after being lost in thoughts for what had seemed like eons to Lavender (or was it Lilac?), who was kind enough and certainly wise enough not to interrupt the whatever-was-happening process inside his skull.
                          “Mmm?”
                          “All those piglets, I read an article recently they could be used efficiently as shepherd dogs.”
                          “Now what? You want us to have sheep now?” Lavender was appalled but displaying still an impeccable composure, thinking it might be another outbreak of being taken over by aliens.
                          “Nah. Just telling you there would certainly be loonies out there wanting to take pigs as dogs. Perhaps we should leave a few on the doorstep of that mad lady, you know… She looks a bit devastated, and sure a little 200 pounds pig would help her stay grounded”
                          “Sure they grew big fast those little buggers.”

                          #1188

                          — “I’M FRIGGINCOLD!”
                          — “I have to agree with Glor”, said Mavis, as Sharon was about to object to the loud whines
                          — “Oh, bummer, you two peas in a pod! How can you be cold with all that fur on you! And how do you want to break out this prison you whiners eh?”
                          — “You’re the bloody genius Sha, you tell us! Had you not signed us up for those stupid beauty treatments…”
                          — “Now that’s a bit late for what-ifs, init? Let’s make the best of what we’ve got; had it not always worked out that way?”

                          The two others Yeah’ed in unison.

                          — “Do you mean we’ll burn our fleece to make us warm?”, Glor asked sheepishly
                          — “Don’t be bloddy silly! If we want to escape, better keep that fur as long as we’re in penguin land !”
                          — “So what?”
                          — “What ‘what’?! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” Sharon’s voice trailed off with a hint of hopelessness

                          WHAT?!”
                          — “You’ve been snotting all around for hours, and you haven’t bloddy noticed?!”
                          WHAT?!”

                          — “Our snot, bloddy ‘ell! It’s sticky like those goddam spider webs! With a bit of training, I’m sure we can knit a solid net and ropes and stuff to get out of ‘ere!”

                          #1113

                          When he had heard the others discuss around the campfire the possibility to ask help from the owners of the island, Claude knew he had to focus back on his mission. He had finally managed to escape the clutches of that mad doctor and his witches, not to be sheepishly brought back to them again.

                          And that little girl seemed to know better than stay here. Despite her tender age, Claude could tell she was well guided, and didn’t really need his being a bodyguard for her family.
                          And Akita, well, he was a soldier, and knew how to take care of himself. Surely, the V girl wouldn’t be as tough as those giant spiders they fought on the parallel island.

                          So, without more hesitation, in a move of preternatural swiftness and stealthiness, Claude disappeared again in the forest.
                          He knew he had to find his contact on the island. The bee-man.

                          :fleuron:

                          Mavis! About bloddy time!… Ooooh, look at that… went hunting, have you…
                          — and kept that quiet too, little black ‘orse. Ye could do the introducing, can’t you?

                          Sha and Glo, rendered a bit irritated by their itching were eying the stranger coming with Mavis with a curiosity drown in envy.

                          #838
                          EricEric
                          Keymaster

                            West Cork, Ireland, Summer of 2051

                            As she walked along the rocky trail bordering the coast where occasionally whales could be seen at a distance, she was humming deep sounds and harmonies in the damp air filled with the echoes of the cool wind.

                            She was aware of distant focuses of herself, living around that place. Past focuses, in that land of the druidesses and druids, and another one, closer to her, in some probable future. Like this other focus, she loved the whales too, and she was able to communicate with her. Catherine Wrick would have loved to be able to live in such a crystalline place she could envision with her eyes closed.

                            Her woolen black coat would let the wind insinuate itself through the layers of clothes, and she was starting to feel a little cold now. Temperatures were colder than they used to be in the past, and even now in summer, they would rarely go higher than 15°C. It was time to get back home. She whistled Merlu, her golden labrador, back, and still nestled into her dream-like attention, slowly walked towards her house.

                            :fleuron:

                            In the comfort of her dome house, she started to leaf through the messages and reminders that she had in a pile on the bed table. Nothing much of interest, except that in a few months time, it would be the first birthday of the twins

                            Her step-mother Dorean had sent her two books, when she had learned of the birth of the twins. They were to return to them, when they would be seven, she’d say.
                            Why seven?, she’d asked… Dorean had answered that seven was the perfect age for them to get them back —their intuitive abilities would still had much potential, and they would be mature enough to understand and use the books. It was no use for herself to keep the books any longer.

                            As she was going to sit in her antique rocking chair for a smoke, Catherine noticed a faint cracking sound. Perhaps Merlu was playing with those hard-boiled eggs she’d been painting recently, without much success, to try to reproduce the perfect glowing green colour of her grandfa… Another crack. She stopped and listened again.
                            It couldn’t be Merlu: the dog was now barking.

                            She started to wonder Could it be?… After all those years of keeping them…

                            The sound was definitely coming from the reading room where the big eggs were put on display…

                            #828

                            What really was Salitre’s mound? For most people around this valley, who had forgotten about the old times, it was nothing more than a rocky and steep piece of earth, barely good enough for Barbary sheep and piglets.
                            In fact, when you were coming from the new macadamized roads encircling the mountains, it could almost slip unnoticed. But when, like Granny Mosca, you knew the paths for having worn countless shoes walking on them, you could no longer ignore the towering presence of this place.
                            For her, it was a magical realm, a doorstep truly.

                            Granny Mosca was the official owner of this place, though she preferred to think of it as being the gatekeeper.
                            She kept a few animals up there, and went everyday here to feed them, pacing up and down the treacherous paths despite her old age.

                            Something you couldn’t really realize until you first reached the top of the mound was that the mound was at the center of the valley, giving an impressive view miles and miles around. In that land of mountains, it could be just another peak among others, but when you were here, you knew it wasn’t.
                            Granny Mosca had felt it many times, this surge of energy, almost as if there were streams flowing down the surrounding slopes, up to the top of Salitre’s mound. At special times of the year, it was like you could feel the dwellers of the past moving around… At this very spot were almond trees were now growing.

                            Those tourists who came a few days ago where funny. Especially the blond woman, with the high-pitched laugh who had come a few times here already.
                            For sure Granny Mosca didn’t fear that they discover anything, as the place had knew how to shroud itself without her for ages, even before she was born. In fact, it was the contrary. She was willing to share some of the secrets to people daring enough and open-minded enough to crack some of these nuts of wisdom.
                            The land would tell them…

                            That is… unless they left the bag of almonds to the dogs…

                          Viewing 20 results - 21 through 40 (of 45 total)