My sister is a school teacher and she was here for a visit this past weekend. I had to read her your stories as I have had such a great time with them. She just sent me this email, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
The “Real” story of Coop Slave’s black eye, as told by her sister Barn Slave.
Coop Slave was awake and up earlier than usual that fateful morning. Even though winter had not yet fully arrived at her mountain ranch, it was cold and dark when she started down to the chicken coop. Coop Slave thought it was odd that her dog wasn’t around.
When Coop Slave arrived at the chicken coop, she noticed that it was unusually quiet. Then she thought she heard a muffled clacking sound instead of the usual contented clucking. She slowly opened the coop’s door. In the dim light she was startled to see her hens gathered around the old typewriter she had tossed the day before into the trash. In the far end of the coop her dog was cornered by the roosters. A startled gasp escaped from Coop Slave. The Wheatons immediately looked at her. They realised the gig was up and bolted through the door under her feet. The rest of the flock, in a mad flurry of feathers, followed quickly behind them. With a look of relief on her doggy face, Coop Slave’s dog wagged her way up to Coop Slave.
Coop Slave bent to pick up the typewriter. On the sheet of paper on the typewriter was: “Dog is hostage. More corn and dog goes free. Signed The Chooks.” Coop Slave knew that the Chanteclers were behind this. She decided that their freezer would soon be filled to capacity. She picked up the old typewriter and started to trudge up the hill back to the garbage bin beside her house. Partway up the hill Coop Slave’s feet slipped on the ice. With her hands full of ancient typewriter, she fell head first onto the frozen ground. Her forehead, above her left eye, hit the return arm of the old typewriter and she lost consciousness.
Coop Slave returned to consciousness with her dog licking her swelling eye. Her crazy morning slowly returned to her as she dizzily sat up. She looked around for the typewriter and couldn’t see it anywhere. She decided that she really didn’t care where it was. Coop Slave returned to her house to put a cold compress on her rapidly swelling eye.
Later that day Coop Slave’s husband, Herd Boss, noticed that the herd of cows were acting strangely. Whistling for his dogs, he headed out to the middle of the field to see what was going on. As he approached the cows he noticed that they were all in a circle and within that circle of cows were his cattle dogs. It looked like the cows had trapped the dogs within the circle. Herd Boss thought this was quite odd. As he got closer the heifers swung their head towards him, gave him a good look and bolted across the field. All the remaining cows then turned towards Herd Boss, snorted and followed the heifers across the field. Herd Boss’ dogs ran up to greet him.
Herd Boss then noticed something on the ground where the cows had been. As he got closer he realized it was the old typewriter that Coop Slave had thrown out. When he reached down to pick up the typewriter, he saw the message the cows had typed: “Holding dogs as hostages. Feed more corn and the dogs go free. Signed The Herd.”
Herd Boss decided that the Herefords where the leaders of this rebellion and that at trip to the butcher was in order. He thought that steak for supper tonight was a good idea. As he was dreaming of the steak, he didn’t hear the stampede of hooves behind him until it was too late. Herd Boss woke in the partially frozen mud to his cattle dogs licking his face. He was battered and bruised from head to toe. As he dragged himself off to the house for a warm bath and a Scotch, he didn’t even notice the old typewriter was missing.
Just at dusk, Cow Hand went out to feed the stock their evening meal. His dog was not waiting for him at the barn. As he rounded the corner of the barn; he noticed that the horses were all standing in a circle at the far end of the corral. He thought this odd as he walked towards them……
and I love that. Such sportsmanship, impressive.
Hubby played rugby for years and says it is the best black eye he has ever seen. I think that is pretty impressive.
