“Gonna be a bad day out,” the toothless old man said.

“A sea day,” his companion grunted.

“Should we bring the sheep in?”


Neither one moved to follow up on that thought. They remained where they were, squatting up against the tall grass. Two sets of eyes, both the color of greenish mud, stared up at a leaden grey sky.

Raindrops fell from the heavens. Neither man moved. Neither man blinked. Sheep bleated in the distance. Thunder clapped. The sheep jumped. The men didn’t.

The old man blinked, grunted, then toppled over. His companion didn’t move. Instead, he whistled and spat out a stream of brown water. He nudged the old man with his toe.

A snore answered.

“Bastard,” the toe-nudger said. His feet slapped in the now muddy grass as he walked towards the sheep.