In a bizarre twist that would have Mary of 'Little Lamb' fame barricading herself in the root cellar with whatever obstructions were most readily at hand, an area lamb, rejecting all known stereotypes associated with the species and defying the stern dictates of the genetic code itself, apparently got sick and tired of following all the other sheep around and running from threats, both real and imagined, and decided to take matters into its own hands, if such a thing can be said about sheep who, in fact, have strange little hooves that are pretty weird if you take a good look at them. This unnamed hellion, still too young to have been painted with the same number as its obviously humiliated mother, quite uncharacteristically 'just went berserk' and began trashing the place after a local farm hand, Pooter Festoon, age 24, was about 15 minutes late in refreshing the water buckets and providing alfalfa to the adult female sheep so that they can keep a steady stream of milk flowing. "Well, I have been having girlfriend problems and was quietly sobbing out behind the barn, (for the third time that day!) so, yes, I was a few minutes late with their refreshments" said the big sissy and outrageous slacker who was the doggone root cause of all the subsequent County-wide devastation. "Anyway, when I finally did make it to where the sheep were, some weird sixth sense told me there was going to be trouble so I hurriedly flung some hay in the pens and tried to shoot the water into the buckets from the supposedly safe confines behind the fence. And the next thing I knew I felt this warm, fuzzy sensation near my disturbingly exposed jugular and I started frantically pushing on the demonic beast to free myself from its vice-like clutches. Then all I could do was run back to the barn, hollering (like a school girl!) for everyone to run for their dadburn lives! Thankfully, right about that time the monster began trotting up the road to Lamont and we were left to try to pick up the pieces of our shattered, fear-tainted lives!" said the melodramatic over-reactor who should have dealt with the matter right then and there (even if he had to sacrifice himself in the process!) as opposed to letting that unfortunate situation impact his neighbors! (Editorial Note: We have said it before, but good help is just so doggone hard to find!)"Well, when we got the emergency call, the town immediately went to 'Code Red', the highest possible threat level!" said the Mayor, still nursing an ear that was thankfully sewn back on by a vet just passing thru on the way to Idaho or whatever. "Anyway, we set up and manned the usual barricade of cars on Main Street in a vain hope of containing the rampaging menace, but that darn lamb just swept right thru our roadblock like a knife thru butter as if controlled by the very forces of Hell itself! I mean, six cars and a tractor are now just twisted hulks of scrap metal, for crying out loud - and if anyone thinks the Town insurance is paying for that, they have another thing coming!" said the outrageous cheapskate! "Anyway that is when I saw the beastly thing make its way straight towards our newly painted fire station and I knew right then that I had to take matters into my own hands, doggone it" said the brave yet foolish hero who spent many hours painting the darn building, although the maintenance dude Jered actually did most of the real work! "So, before it could reduce our main town structure with its decidedly soothing color scheme to a pile of worthless rubble, I attempted one of those fancy wrestling moves (pronounced 'rasslin'!) that I saw on that professional wrestling (pronounced rasslin'!) tape I got of "Smackdown 2004" and was able to slow the monstrosity hell-bent on destruction down somewhat before all that pent up rage could be unleashed on the unsuspecting but largely deserving town. Well, I must have stunned the thing with my Ninja-like moves because it quickly turned on me and quite brazenly attached itself to my earlobe and began that half nursing/half chewing thing that some of them critters do. Oh, it was quite a nightmarish experience, one I don't want to duplicate anytime soon! Oh, that sucking/crunching noise was almost as bad as the unbearable searing pain and agony!" he said with his usual understatement and John Wayne-like bravado. "So, finally, 8-10 of the town men eventually got up the courage (after about 15-20 minutes!) (sadly, many if not most were cheering for the lamb!) and managed to extricate themselves from behind their wives and flung their worthless carcasses into the melee with reckless although somewhat belated abandon and we were able to subdue the agile nightmare in some cat carrier that one of them had handy for some darn reason. (It might have belonged to the vet! Who knows! What a blur! Arms, legs and hooves were flying everywhere!) It was all very touch and go there for a while, let me tell you" he said humbly, favoring his bad ear that I am sure we are going to have to hear about for the next year or so as opposed to him taking it like a man and not having to make some big deal over a little bitten-off ear! Sheesh!
The renegade lamb, once subdued and confined, was obviously somewhat upset upon being returned to the ranch and reunited with its none-too-pleased and somewhat stand-offish mother, (Oh, her standing in the flock certainly will take a nose-dive!) but seems to be adapting fairly well to flock life, although ranch employees have now been issued with stun-guns and pepper spray in the off-chance that the little devil somehow decides that the life of perpetual fear and loathing of all moving things, including shadows, is not to its liking anymore and the uncontrollable calling to 'live on the wild side' somehow wins out over its better judgment.
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