Friday, August 9, 2019

Finding Sheep

Finding Sheep
- by TC Lai 9th August 2019

When Mary woke one morning and found a sheep missing, she was distraught. It was Tony, her favourite one. Although he was more like a wolf in sheep's skin, she liked the way he played rough with her...biting her, pawing her. - It all so titillating! No doubt she liked her other sheep too but only when she was feeling delicate and girly, especially after hanging out with Bo Beep. But it was Tony and his animal ways that got her "excited".

Presently, she went over to Jack (of the Beanstalk tale) house to enquire. She found him busy as usual counting beans. Jack was secretly in love with Mary but was so shy he kept his feelings bottled up inside. So guarded was he that when he beamed to see Mary, all she saw was a face as blank as a new accounting book. The fact of the matter was Jack desired very much to create a future with Mary. And as with all reliable men in this state of mind, he made plans. One plan was to use a fraction of his vast bean wealth and sleek magic marketing skills to start a business building and renting out grain silos. It's the real estate part of the grain commodity business that's seldom spoken of.

Building a grain silo was plenty easy in this rather dry climate. It's exactly like placing a tin can over a big fan underneath and topping it off with a cone. The fan would both ventilate and dry the beans when needed. And with his innovation: a jack-up construction method, a silo could be built in a single day. It could even be moved if need be given its light sheet metal construction. Jack could even use one to house his own beans and speculate on their future.

To Jack, it was a solid win-win plan and he was mightily pleased. Mary would also be pleased. So pleased she'd swoon over and fall into his arms. She would birth out three kids right there and then.

"Jack?" Mary said, with a wave of her hand. Jack broke from his revelry and nodded, sheepishly. If only Mary knew what was on his mind! But plainly he spoke.

"No, I don't believe I've seen Tony. Maybe wait a day or two when the moon is full. He'll run out and howl."

"Should I check with Red?" asked Mary. Red was the town's girl who liked to wear gothic make-up and a red riding hood. The look she was going for was "bad-ass rapper with philo cred". Mostly, she ended up looking like a drug user. Old people avoided her. The riding hood was a gift from her grandma who lived in the forest and Red clung to it like an orphan with an only blanket.

"No use, I think. She is always into those magic mushrooms she finds in the forest. And I can bet she couldn't even tell a wolf from her grandma on any given day!" said Jack, his face still a mask despite the exclamation mark. Jack was never one to judge. But some beans just need to be sorted, is what he thought.

Jack had once thought of dating Red, the only other girl around his age. But with the kind of business he was in, Red was not the most auspicious girl to consider, even to marry. His parents would likely object and his business might also suffer. So he kept his distance from the girl but secretly wished she would spank him or something. Oh, so gothic! Oh, so mysterious! Even bean counters have their fantasies! But red was a color bad for the books, and his business was hard fought for. He had to go to great heights to kill a giant!

Next, Mary went to check with the other Jack who was a professional jumper. But the townsfolk said he had jumped over one too many candlesticks and was now bedded in the ICU when a fay candlestick reached out and snuck itself into his rectum. Further rumors indicted Lumiere, the candlestick (from Chateau De Chambord where a not-so-handsome beast once lived) who was probably "turned" by the not-so-closet clock fella whom Disney had decided to turn gay. Sort of like the sly way The Children's Workshop went about with Ernie and Bert back in the 70s. "How DO YOU GET to Sesame Street?..." was something many gay folks tried but got nowhere.

Mary then stood at the street corner wondering what to do next. A carriage came by and splashed kerb water all over her. This made Mary cry and the carriage soon stopped a short distance away. Out stepped a fine young lady in glass slippers. Cinderella.

The moment she took a second step, Cinderella fell to her bottom. Thankfully her full skirt saved her from a harsh landing on the cobblestones - her slippers less so. They catapulted from her feet and landed hard; one of them anyways. It shattered into a million pieces of crystal shards and then disappeared into thin air with a fancy "pinnng". The other slipper fell onto a bundle of the day's FairyTimes and was thus saved.

At all this, Mary cried harder. Hearing her wail, Cinderella cried too and in total embarrassment, scrambled quickly back into her carriage. Oh, what will her fairy godmother think? First day out and she couldn't even take care of her special footwear. How will she trust her using them again and at that all important royal ball later? Thinking of this, Cinderella cried even harder and hoped her effort would attract the attention of her fairy godmother. It worked the last time.

However, this very afternoon, her fairy godmother was away gossiping at a nail salon run by a gaggle of Filipinas. They were telling her how a place of theirs such as Marawi could use a little of her magic. Fairy Godmother nodded but did not commit.

Not far away, a handsome prince saw all that and went over to pick up the remaining glass slipper. He set his jaw tight and determined to find out who that pretty girl was who hurt her hinny. He loved the way her beauty was further enhanced by her pained expression. Actually he was not a prince but baron. A rich baron by the family name of Grey. (I apologise. By fairytale conventions, he has to be of some royal title. Bluff one also nebermind).

The baron paid no attention to Mary, whose looks were actually not bad. But she was more kawaii then stunner. More sheep than doe. More rabbit than alpaca. get the picture.

A gentleman in a cap and cape walked by. He was also smoking a pipe and went by the name Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. He and the other spy gentleman were the same, always introducing themsleves this way. Bond. James Bond. As if offering their first names first was too pedestrian. How annoying!

Holmes surveyed the scene in front of him and decided it was all too illogical and turned away. Fairy tales, all bollocks! Where's the logic? Where's the commonsense?

But Mary recognised him and tugged at his coattails.

"Mr Holmes, you have to help me. I am missing Tony!"

Holmes turned around and sneered. But he softened when he realised she was not a street urchin (given the muddied state Mary was in) but the Little Match Girl.

"Darling, why are you still in this state? What happened to the five hundred quid I gave you the last time? Did someone rob you? Did the matron at the orphanage waste it all on her secret mahjong sessions? Tell me!"

"I..I...bought some sheep and took lessons from the Little Bo Beep academy. I did not disappoint you, Mr Holmes. I left the streets and upgraded myself, as you have lectured. You said it is not 'Opportunities that maketh the man'," but that 'Man maketh the opportunities'. I took it to heart Mr Holmes. And you were right too that lighters would soon replace matches. And cheap. No one could a good fortune from them except arsonists scamming insurance companies. And the profit margins you mentioned...."

Before Mary could go on, Holmes tapped his pipe on her head. It brought her nervous chatter to an instant stop.

"Now what is this Tony business? I hope he is not your pimp, or I'll have him ripped into pieces and thrown into the Thames!"

"No-no Mr Holmes," sniffed Mary, now more composed and rubbing the bump on her head. "He's my sheep. Or rather, a wolf in sheep's skin."

Hearing this, Holmes got angry. "Girl, haven't I thought you anything? A wolf in sheep's clothing is bad economics. It's diminishing returns. Haven't you learnt anything from all those supper nights when I gave you a warm meal and tutored you on life's rudimentals? Or did all that nice kwaychap went up and blocked that space between your ears?" At that, Holmes rapped Mary's head once again. Hard.

"Ow! Mr Holmes!" snapped Mary, who knew she deserved it. Mixing pleasure with business was a no-no in Mr Holmes books, unless it was pleasure AS a business. And that often meant mixing with bad company like Snow White who was a snakehead and smuggled folks from a country well-known for their bereavement in height, but top-class skills in mining. Mining for blood diamonds, that is - a very nasty business. Snow would work them till very sick - sneezing, sleepy, grumpy, doped, etc., and fed them poisoned apples and afterwards disposed of their bodies in the dead marshes of nearby Dagorlad, where ancient armies fought and the spirits of those who died - orcs and men, still lingered. Travel guide Smeagol looked worn and thin from just passing through that place many times, so wicked the air there had grown. 

"Tell me! Has that wolf touched you in any indecent way?" demanded Holmes, who had earlier developed a soft spot for the girl and adopted her in his mind as his godchild, even if the very idea repelled him. Having any children in his life would interfere with his devotion to forensic science, his first love. And since he liked shooting holes in his living room wall at will, kids would simply get in the way.

"No, no. We just go into heavy petting that's all. He's more like a dog to me, actually," confessed Mary. Holmes, who was a man of the world and familiar with beastial porn, was livid. That wolf has to die, he decided. Sexual grooming in the fairy tale land? What is the world coming to?

"Come, you will go see my colleague Dr Watson. He will examine you and decide if you have been violated. We will then decide if we should bring the full force of the law on that bast....." Holmes checked his language. He was after all in the presence of youth. With his army buddies, it was a different matter altogether and it would be KNS this or CB that.

Mary wanted to protest but was helpless to do so. She knew when Mr Holmes decided on something, it was difficult to change his mind. If only she had cocaine on her; it was catnip to Mr Holmes - make him weak and more agreeable. But all she had white on her were some samples of sheep wool - stuff she had wanted to bring to the Wool Exchange and ask for a quote. But all this business with Tony had derailed her plans. Maybe he wasn't so good for her after all. Maybe Jack from Beanstalk & Co? Hmm....Men can be fashioned like clay, right?

After Holmes deposited Mary with Watson, he went to the Homeless Shelter and entered a special room. Through that a garden and then towards a small piles of stones by the corner. He stooped and rearranged them into a special way, a code. A request for a hitman, to the trained eye.

The other time he inquired was when his nemesis Moriarty became a life-threatening nuisance. This time he had to see to it that Tony the Wolf got hunted down and disposed of. More than Moriarty, he hated wolves in sheepskin. With Moriarty, at least it was WYSIWYG. With wolves, one can often get blindsided and betrayed.

Two weeks after the stones were placed, a wolf was reportedly killed in the forest. It was dressed in old lady clothes and was about to harm Red, that gothic girl from town. They also found evidence that Wolf could be in cahoots with a baker lady operating in the same forest. A large oven was discovered in her candy decorated hut and remains purportedly of children found. Was it cannibalism? Was it paedophilia? In any case, a major crime ring was smashed and Holmes was awarded the town's Key to the City - such was the ambition of the mayor. Only the fairytale folks were not too happy as they detested men of logic; they made life no fun and often diminished their existence. Just like like how one-party ruled states become after a long while... They tended to lose all spontaneity and verve.

The board of Hogwarts had also decided to set up their school elsewhere, denying the further development of magic in the region. That was a harsh pill for the fairy tale folks to swallow. They had yet to forgive the major for that. But paedophilia was paedophilia and had no place even in fairy tales. Maybe in religion. But that's for another realm of discussion and judgement.

The end

Background: Was thinking of fairy tales and this came up.

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