Tall and Sheep

Once about a time ago, a shepherd was tending to his flock on the fields that sat in the jagged shadow of the mountains. And he was very bored. He was long and tall with ruddy cheeks and good bone structure and bored. The sheep tore at the grass with their hard flat teeth and chewed it and chewed it right in the front of shepherd--mocking him indifferently. It was very quiet aside from the obnoxious chewing of the sheep. There wasn't even a breeze strong enough to carry the sighs of the shepherd away from him. So, the sighs settled in pile around his feet. If a wolf came, the shepherd would try to beat it with his shepherd-staff. That would be exciting. But, then the shepherd considered that wolves would probably travel in packs and easily overwhelm the feeble shepherd and eat him and he would be dead. After a certain amount of time of imagining his dead body--this also bored the shepherd. A fox would probably go after one of his sheep alone. But, a fox wouldn't attack when the shepherd was nearby. The shepherd wished he had a companion like a dog or a wench--something better than the sheep. The sheep he had were boring because they were the sheep he had. Better sheep would be less boring--or even much worse sheep. Sheep that were attracted to land mines or possessed or stupid and easily frightened--any sheep that weren't his sheep. But the shepherd had his own sheep and that made him bored.