smuggles in a suffolk & a hampshire, along with popcorn
pardon me? are these seats taken?
Man, this story is getting wild wooly.
I hope Scylla doesn’t wind up on the lamb from his wife, or something.
:Sits forward in seat, hand in bucket of popcorn, stuffing it into her mouth and dropping some on the floor:
Well!? Ohmigod, what’s going to happen next!?
Beware, Scylla, they’re not as innocent as ewe might think…
Baaaaaaad poster…
Click on “Sheep Sleep” near the bottom to find it…
tradesilicon - “I bet he stops just in time, and apologizes…sheepishly”
scylla - " ‘Sorry Hon, g’night’ I managed to get out through clenched teeth."
Man, If he’s goin’ where I think he’s goin’, I hope he uses the lamn skin!
bump, this thread really belongs on the first page.
Write some more before we have to bust your chops, dude.
scylla should write a book, or perhaps create a book by binding all of his funny stories together.
it could be called;
[/quote]
The Sheep had a Nice Ass… Elmo did, Too:
101 Tales of Scylla on the Farm
[/quote]
though that could be construed as some sort of porn…
perhaps this would be better…
[/quote]
Elmo’s Ass and Evil Nazi Groundhogs:
101 Tales of Scylla
[/quote]
I reckon he got caught and he’s still on the lam[sub]b[/sub] to this day.
oooh… that was an excellent use of post 250!
Outside the house I quickly changed clothes: black stretch pants with suspenders over a button down shirt, work boots and a hat. My hair had gotten long and I planned on getting it cut the next day. For the moment I pulled it straight down, approximating a page boy.
A few moments later and I was on the bicycle, pedalling away from the house. Having achieved safety, I took a deep swig from my hip flask. I would need fortification if I was to be successful in my Amish disguise. Thus prepared I flicked the generator against the tire providing light, and began pedalling down the road, past the farms of my new neighbors.
Past the cow field, the heifers stared at me with prudish disaproval. It was as if they knew.
The generator’s drag was tremendous, seemingly doubling the effort necessary to provide the thin beam of sad yellow light, and I’m panted with effort.
There are several farms that have sheep in the area. My destination was the largest nearby that was still far enough from home that I need not fear being recognized. Just to be sure, I’ve altered my identity in clandestine fashion.
Each push of the pedal caused the light to pulse weakly as I made my way up the hill of the entranceway. My worst fear was that the occupants would be already asleep, and indeed, the lights in the house were off. Strangely I saw a dim beam as from the flicker of a flashlight from within the barn. I headed that way, got off the bike and lay panting on the ground getting my wind. Further noises confirmed activity in the barn.
“Hellllooooo?” I called letting myself in. All was pitch black, and I moved carefully lest I step on a rake and make a comic figure out of myself. I desperately needed the help and knowledge of these people to seek an antidote to the sirens of the lambs, but I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. I had my dignity.
Nothing.
I must have been standing in the middle of the barn. I had seen a light here a moment ago. Where was it? Straight ahead I walked with my hands in front of me, the only light a dim glow from the corners of the barn windows, a glow from the stars. My feet and hands touched hay simultaneously and I moved sideways, finding the entrance to the hay loft.
The light had seemed to emanate from about here.
“Crunch” I heard. Simultaneously I saw a flash of blue lightning, dim yet perceivable.
“Hello?” I called.
I felt the grip as of a gorilla latch on to my arm and pull me violently to a side. I struggled and called out, but before I could hardly utter a cry, an oily hand clamped on to my mouth. Reflexively I bit down.
“OW! Shit!” the hand jerked away, and I has hit hard twice. As I fell backwards I felt the giant mass of the body belonging to the arms come down on top of me. Sweat and chest hairs pressed into my face as we fell, and as we hit ground a savage knee was driven into my groin.
“Quiet, Rafe. You’ll wake up Dad.”
“I know Sirzee! I’m trying, but every time I hit him he yells.”
“____!” I reasoned.
“You don’t make a noise now. Shush.”
“Who is it, Rafe?”
“Shine the light on him, Sirzee. I hope it’s not your dad. Maybe it’s a burglar.”
“I’m not a burglar. I’m Amish.” I whimpered weakly.
“Hamish?” They shine the light at my face.
“He looks Amish,” Whispers Sirzee.
“An Amish named Hamish?” slurred Rafe, and I realized they were drunker then myself… or something. “What’s that about. I wonder if they call him Hamish the Amish. How’m I gonna tell anybody I caught Hamish the Amish prowling?”
“That’s not his name. He was just telling you he was Amish.”
“Why would he tell me his religion when I decked him? No, that’s is name. Just like Famous Amos. I bet this guy makes pretzels though, not cookies. These guys’ll do that if you don’t watch them, you know, make pretzels. Man, I could go for one of those cookies now. Not the new kind, but like back then were still good.” Rafe seemed to pause as if reflecting opon cookies. At least his grip lessened.
“Well his name ain’t Hamish, that’s for sure,” said the woman’s voice.
The grip tightened.
“Well let’s just ask him. What’s you name, tell us quiet now.”
Considering Rafe’s insistence and violent nature, my decision was a quick one.
“My name’s Hamish, sir. Please don’t hit me.”
“See, I told, ya. What do we do with him?”
There was a few moments of silence.
“Crunch.” Again I saw the faint blue lightning. Then Sirzee spoke.
“Kill him or cut off his balls. I don’t know yet. Let me think.”
I fear they’re going to make him do the dance of the provocative ewes…or :eek: steal his bike.
These intermissions need some trailers. 1 popcorn please.
Okay, thhis is getting kind of long and that jumbo coke is starting to get to me…
::rushs to the restroom before the intermission ends::
Oops.
Sorry 'bout that.
'Scuse me.
Pardon.
[sub]Damn, its getting crowded in here. Bunch of perverts![/sub]
Will our hero lose his life or just his manhood? How will the dashing Scylla get out of his predicament? Find out in the next episode of Scylla, sheep herder.
[minor hijack]
Did you hear that the Scots have found two new uses for sheep?
[sub]Food AND Clothing…[/sub]
What do you call a Scotsman without a date for the weekend?
[sub]Ewesless…[/sub]
[/minor hijack]
SCYLLA, I am waiting with baa-ted breath for the next of Ewethfull Lust!!!
O
Are we all out of popcorn? I think we really need a hot dog vendor and maybe a guy who throws peanuts, too.
And some beer. I don’t know if I can continue reading this sober. Really, really, need some beer.
[sub]Hey! Who stole my chair when I was in the bathroom?[sub}
We need more, Scylla. I am mainlining Woolite as we speak, and it still won’t satisfy the craving…
When does Ewes Sluts come out on DVD?? Popcorn is too expensive here, and the floor’s getting a little sticky.
I am living in fear of the horrible pun that awaits us all at the end of this story. (Assuming it ends someday.)
I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s there. Am I the only person who thinks so? Can’t you just smell it in the air?
For the love of god, run for your lives!
:::hangs about waiting for good seats to suddenly become available:::
Okay, I’m back. Boy, those bathroom and concession lines are a bitch during the interludes.
Anybody want a milkdud? How about some baaaklava?
Dang, someone took my seat, guess I’ll have to sit in back in the nosebleat section…