Tuesday, August 10, 2010

One Little Ewe, part 1

In the days of kings and shepherds lived a man of meager means within the city of a wealthy, thriving economy.  This poorer man dwelt with his wife and five very pleasant sons and an ewe, one little ewe loved like a daughter.  He fed her from his hand and walked with her in the evening.  He spoke with her of his days and napped with her in the latter of the morning.  She was a lamb of special favor in his eyes.  
A sharp knock startled the man and his fluffy companion from one such latter morning nap.  Rap-a-rap-ap, it hastily interrupted.  The man yawned and stretched and patted his little friend and shimmied out of the stone window seat.  Rap-a-rap-ap.  “Coming, coming, coming,” he muttered, shuffling his short stubby frame to the door.  He pulled the door open to a younger servant, about seventeen, dressed in plain rich garments.  “Sir” the servant turned his nose eastward to avoid the smell of the hot, stuffy apartment, “I have come to inquire if you will allow my master to purchase your ewe for a fine dinner he will be serving this evening to a guest.”
The poor man chuckled and proclaimed with vocal exaggeration, “Your wealthy and pompous master has several hundred ewes he could chose from for his important dinner and you have the nerve to ask me for my one.. .little.. .ewe!”  The poor man was nose to nose in the servants face.  He shook his head and laughed heartily again to show his annoyance at the request.  The servant was unmoved, “He will compensate you well”, he said dryly.  The poor man threw his hands in the air and waved toward the servant, “Fool!” he shouted, “Be gone!  Such a ridiculous request!  You ought to know the answer!”  He waved and waved some more for the servant to leave.  “Go eat one of your own fat ugly ewes!” and the poor man shut his small apartment door with gusto.
He shuffled over toward the stone ledge where his little friend lay and sat down.  He patted her head and stroked her ears.  “Such a silly rich man, ey little one?” he smiled kindly. “No one will make a dinner of you,” he whispered, “You are a friend to me.”

To be continued...

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