Survival of the Sheeps
Munch.
Munch.
Munch.
I hated him.
Munch.
Munch.
Munch.
He was so smug, standing there a little in front of me, chewing on the delicious green grass.
Munch.
Munch.
Munch.
That overgrown, pompous mammal of a fluffball was always stealing things from me. Like other girl sheeps. The really pretty ones too, not just the ugly desperate hags.
Munch.
Munch.
Munch.
What did they see in him? So what if he's got a fluffier coat than mine. That usually makes him the first to be sheared during winter.
Munch.
Munch.
Munch.
I can't wait for the day he gets tugged away by those giant, ugly, two-legged things. Maybe then he'd stop stealing my grazing spots. He'll tell you he saw it first, but we all know I was eyeing hours before he was!
Munch.
Munch.
Munch.
Smug bastard. Because of him I have to graze on this not-as-delicious grass. Second-best. Grade B. Sloppy leftovers. Lousy good-for-nothing.
Swish.
Swish.
Swish.
Hmph. Whatever. Dirtbag can have his stupid grade A grass. Nothing wrong with grade B, y'know. Except maybe this blade right here… and this one…
'Baaa!'
Huh? Oh. He's gone…
Cool.
...
...
...
And so, the sheep named Phil meandered into the grazing spot of his now long gone (and somewhat long missed) friend, Carl.
Rest in peace, Carl. And don't come back, because Phil really loves his new grazing spot.
...
...
...
END
A/N Just something silly to get rid of my writer's block. And after the (fifth) time watching HTTYD, I decided to do a little tribute for the poor sheep who got kidnapped in the first few minutes of the movie. You will be missed.
Snowflake Flower
