The Gospel According To Saint Sheep, Part One.

Wednesday.

Grass for dinner again. I don't know about you, but I never get sick of grass. It's just so green and tasty and lush, especially when it's all dewy and moist first thing in the morning. To be honest though, this grass is a bit past it's 'eat by' date. Little patches have gone a bit brown and there's an odd smell about it.

On the other hand, saw an apple falling from a tree in the next field. This made me think about things, and I reasoned there must be some sort of grand unifying and invisible force that keeps us from floating off into space. I've decided to name this invisible force 'gravity' - for now at least, I'll try and come up with a better name for it later.

Thursday.

Strange things happening, at least the shepherd thinks so. There was a bright new star in the sky and he got all flustered about it. Don't know why, it was only a comet. Having observed it, I determined from the angle of approach, cross-referenced with the apparent velocity, magnitude and distance that it must be in some sort of orbital path, one that takes approximately 76 years to complete. Interesting, but I wouldn't have thought worthy of such a response as the shepherd gave, which was pretty much gibbering and crying out about prophecies and stuff like that. Silly superstitious shepherd.

Friday.

Shepherd, still mumbling about prophetic visions has moved us into the North field. What do you know? The grass really is greener on the other side!

On the other hand, I did have a little ruminate over this whole sun thing, and by my calculations it is highly unlikely that Earth is the centre of our solar system, let alone the galaxy or even universe. I'll do more thinking on this later, after some more lovely grass.

(To be continued...)

Nine Tales Of Nine Tails. - Prologue to all cat-related stories on this site.

All cats have tales, even those who don't have tails.

When they meet, they compare tales, and they compare tails. And sometimes the tails have tales, and sometimes the tales have tales.

This is nine tales of nine tails. 

The Yosher's Dream.

The Yosher was a cat who liked to sleep.

And when he slept, he had dreams.

One afternoon, as he slept, he dreamed he was a comet.

He dreamed he was a huge glowing comet with a long fiery tail, flying through space at incredible speeds.

Later that day, as day turned to dusk and dusk turned to night, he was sat upon the windowsill when he saw something amazing in the sky.

Up there, cutting across the dark was a shooting star, brilliant and bright with a long fiery tail.

And from that moment on, he was never quite sure if he was a cat that had once dreamed of being a comet,

Or if he was a comet that was still dreaming of being a cat.

Nozzie Mojo And The Moon.

Nozzie Mojo was a mischievous cat, but very clever with it.

He would sleep all day, and scheme all night; for what he really wanted was to eat the moon.

Every evening, he would sit upon the windowsill, looking up at the moon and licking his lips.

One day, he approached Mother Crow, for he had a plan.

"Take me up to the moon," he pleaded, "I want to give it a goodnight kiss."

"No," said Mother Crow. "You are too young and will be sick at such a height."

Next he went to see Uncle Monkey. "Throw me in the air so I can touch the moon!"

"Certainly not!" Said Uncle Monkey. "You are too young and will be hurt if you fall too far."

Then he went to sleep and scheme a while longer, and when he woke, he went to see Grandfather Tree.

"Grandfather Tree!" He said. "I bet you can't grow so high you can touch the moon!"

"Insolent kitten!" Said Grandfather Tree. "I'll show you!" And he grew and he grew until his top branches could touch the moon.

No-one really knows what happened next, but when they look to see the moon, there's often a large chunk of it missing - as if someone had taken a bite out of it.

And Nozzie Mojo sits on his windowsill all the time, smiling and purring all day and glowing all night.

The Future Is Maybe Now...?

If I were to - only twenty years ago - write about a man being woken up by a small slab-shaped computer (which was also a phone) which presented him with a selected feed of news tailored to his individual political outlooks and personal interests via a wireless connection, and that said phone would provide him with a traffic update for his route to work, plus all public transport timetables at the swipe of a touch-sensitive screen, that his coffee maker would read the barcodes of the pods inserted into it and adjust its own settings accordingly to provide the perfect cup to go with his breakfast, and that his car, when he got to work would be able to park itself with minimal input from him, no publisher on Earth would have accepted it, saying the concepts were 'too outlandish'.

Yet here we are.

 Though they would have said "Where's the flying cars?"

The discovery of Marijuana. (Skit)

EXT: Outside, grassy hill in background. The occasional waft of smoke can be seen drifting past.

CAPTION: ROMANIA, 3000BC.

Two Iron-age VILLAGERS enter, from opposite sides.

FIRST VILLAGER (From right): Barry! Barry! A fire's broken out! The fields are burning!

BARRY (From left): Oh no! Which one Derek?

DEREK: Well, we hadn't got round to clearing it out yet, so there was loads of old weeds and all growing all over it. What are we going to do?

(Smoke wafts past. BARRY takes a deep breath in and exhales, his face taking on a strange expression.)

DEREK: Barry?

(BARRY takes another breath of the smoke.)

DEREK: Barry? What we going to do?

BARRY (Smiling): Fuck 'em. You hungry? I'm hungry all of a sudden.

Adam Ant's Dinner Song.

As a confirmed Adam Ant fan and random odd-person, I wrote this in an idle moment. To the tune of 'Prince Charming'... enjoy.

Eat your dinner,

Eat your dinner,

Open your mouth and shovel it inside you.

Eat your dinner,

Eat your dinner,

Open your mouth and shovel it inside you.

Little peas,

Little peas,

Petits pois is nothing to be scared of.

Eat your dinner,

Eat your dinner,

Open your mouth and shovel it inside you.

Try some mustard,

Have some mustard,

It goes well with all this boiled bacon.

Try some mustard,

Have some mustard,

It goes well with all this boiled bacon.

Little peas,

Little peas,

Petits pois is nothing to be scared of.

Try some mustard,

Have some mustard,

It goes well with all this boiled bacon.

(Repeat ad nauseum)

[Please note - this is a parody of 'Prince Charming' by Adam and the Ants, all rights reserved by respective original owners]