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The Sheep Mans Christmasby MURAKAMI Haruki
Translated by Christophor Allison
While it was yet high summer, the Sheep Man was asked to pose some music for Christmas. The Sheep Man and his sheep visitor, who had e to ask him to uake the position, sweated profusely uheir summer sheep suits. As long as summer lasted, the Sheep Man was quite miserable, because he was but a poor sheep man and could not afford an air ditioner. As the fan slapped around and around in circles, the sheep ears of the two sheep fellows fluttered softly in the breeze.
“We, the Sheep Men’s cil,” began the Sheep Man’s visitor, unloosening the faste his collar so as to allow the wind from the fan to blow in, “every year selee sheep, blessed with prodigious musical talent, to usi honour of our Most Holy Patron, the Sheep Saint. This music will thence be performed on Christmas Day. This year, happily, you have been chosen.”
“Oh, I see,” said the Sheep Man.
“This year especially, it being the 2500th anniversary of His passing, we desire particularly splendid music, befitting to this sacred event,” he cluded.
“I see, I see,” said the Sheep Man, scratg his ears.
“Christmas is still four and a half months away,” he thought to himself. “With that much time, I certainly pose some magnifit sheep music.”
“I’ll be happy to do it. You t on me,” he replied, his chest swelling with pride. “I’ll certainly do my best to write excellent sheep music.
September passed, and then October and November, but the Sheep Man hadn’t been able to begin the music requested by the Sheep Men’s cil. Because the Sheep Man worked in the neighborhood donut shop, he had very little time to devote to the position. Moreover, whenever he began to play his<tt></tt> ramshackle old piano, the wife of the b house’s landlord would invariably e up the steps and pound on his door.
“Cut that racket out! I barely here the television.”
“I’m terribly sorry. But since I have to have this musie by Christmas, might I beg of you to bear with me a little while?” the Sheep Man said meekly.
“What a idiotic thing to say,” erupted the landlord’s wife. “If you don’t like it, you just leave right now. Just because we let weirdoes like you live here doesn’t mean that you make a laughing stock out of us. If this is a problem for you, well, too bad.”
The Sheep Man gazed at the dar with a feeling of dread. Even though Christmas was just four short weeks away, he hadn’t been able to write a single bar of the promised music, since he couldn’t play the piano.
One day, the Sheep Man was sitting in the park, eating donuts with something of a disturbed tenance, when he roached by the Sheep Professor. “What’s wrong, my dear Sheep lad?” the Sheep Professor enquired.
“I’m not feeling very well. Even though Christmas is ing, something is really b me. That is to say, Christmas is part of the problem,” the Sheep Man began, and then fessed the whole story to the Sheep Professor.
“Hmmm...” said the Sheep Professor, stroking his beard. “If that’s the case, I think I help you.”
“Really?” the Sheep Man replied skeptically. Because the Sheep Professor had only studied sheep-related matters all his life, there had developed among the people in the neighborhood the suspi that he was a little bit queer in the head.
“Yes, really,” the Sheep Professor said. “e to my house tonight at 6:00. I’ll teach you excellehods and teiques of position. By the way, I have one of those amon donuts?”
“Yes, of course,” the Sheep Man said, resenting it inwardly. “Here you go.” And they sat together on the bend munched donuts.
That evening, bearing a package of six amon donuts as a gift, the Sheep Man visited the Sheep Professor’s house. It was an old brick affair, and all the shrubberies had been pruned into the shape of sheep. The doorbell, too, as well as the gateposts and the flagstones, were all sheep. “Holy cow!” thought the Sheep Man to himself.
Of the six donuts, the Sheep Professor devoured four without so much as stopping for a breath. The remaining two he put in a cupboard as if they were very important. Finally, wetting his fingers with his tongue, he mopped up the scattered crumbs oabletop and licked his fingers .
“This fellow certainly likes his donuts,” thought the Sheep Man, rather impressed.
Once his fingers were thhly , the Sheep Professor retrieved a huge book from a bookcase. The History of Sheep Men rinted on the cover.
“So, master Sheep,” the Professan heavily. “In this book is writtehing ceivable ing sheep men. Here we will find the reason why you haven’t been able to write the sheep music.”
“But Professor, I already know the reason. It’s because the landlady won’t let me play the piano,” said the Sheep Man. “If only I could play the piano...”
“Nonsehe Sheep Professor said, shaking his head. “Even if you could play that piano, you still wouldn’t write the music. The deeper reason is in here.”
“What’s that?” asked the Sheep Man.
“You have been curse,” the Sheep Professor said with a grimace.
“Cursed?”
“Quite so,” said the Sheep Professor nodding several times. “Because you have been cursed, you either play the piano nor usic.”
“Oh,” the Sheep Man groaned. “But why have I been cursed, do you suppose? I haven’t done anything bad to anybody.”
The Sheep Professor flipped through the pages of the book dexterously. “Perhaps you looked up at the moon on Juh?”
“No. I haven’t seen the moon in the last five years.”
“Well, then maybe you ate something with a hole in it on Christmas Eve last year?”
“I eat donuts for lunch everyday. I ’t remember exactly what kind of donuts I ate on Christmas Eve last year, but...umm... I’m pretty certain I had donuts.”
“Donuts with holes in them?”
“Yes, I imagine so. I mean, almost all donuts have hole in them.”
“That’s it!” the Sheep Professor said, nodding vigorously. “You have been cursed as a result of this. Surely some sheep teacher must have taught you not to eat food with holes in it on Christmas Eve?”
“I’ve never heard that before,” said the Sheep Man, surprised. Is that true all over?”
“Not knowing about the Feast of the Sheep Saint...that’s startling,” replied the Sheep Professor, even more surprised. “Kids today...they don’t know anything! When you were being a sheep man, didn’t they teach you this stuff in Sheep Man’s School?”
“Yeah, I guess so. But I didn’t do so well with my studies,” the Sheep Man said, scratg his head.
“Look here, this misfortune has befallen you because you are a very careless sheep man. You have brought this upon yourself. heless,” the Sheep Professor tinued, “because you have brought donuts to me, I will instruct you. While December 24th is Christmas Eve, it is also the Feast of the Sheep Saint. On this day, as the Most Holy Sheep Saint was walking along a road in the middle of the night, he fell into a hole and died. For this reason, it is a very sacred day. sequently, the eating of foods with holes in them on this day has been ex-pli-cit-ly prohibited sint times. Such foods as mai, Swiss cheese, donuts, onis, and of course bagels, cause severe problems.”
“I beg your pardon, but what was the Most Holy Sheep Saint doing walking along a road in the middle of the night? And why was there a hole in the road?”
“I don’t know the ao these questions. These events happened 2500 years ago, so the causes ot be known. But anyway, it was decided then. It is a law inviolable. Whether you know it or not, the breaking of the law will result in a curse being placed upon you. When you were cursed, you ceased to be a sheep man. You ot pose the Sheep Music for this reason<tt></tt>. Yes.”
“I’m su idiot,” the Sheep Man said weakly. “Is there any way of removing this curse?”
“Hmm,” said the Sheep Professor. “There’s a way, but I’m afraid that it’s not very easy. But that’s OK, isn’t it?”
“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes. Please tell me.”
“The way is for you yourself to fall into a hole.”
“Hole?” said the Sheep Man. “This hole, what kind of hole is it exactly? Is any hole OK?”
“Don’t be stupid. Not just any hole will do. The size ah of the hole necessary to remove the curse are very clearly defined. Luckily, it’s fairly small. I’ll try to find it for you now.”
The Sheep Professor retrieved a tattered book entitled The Legend of the Most Holy Sheep Saint and poured over it’s pages.
“Well...hmm...ah, here it is. It says that the Most Holy Sheep Saint fell into a hole two meters in diameter and 203 meters deep, whereupon he passed away. Therefore, a hole of the same dimensions will suffice.”
“But I ’t dig a hole that deep by myse<s></s>lf. And anyway, if I fall into a hole like that, won’t I be killed before the curse is broken?”
“Wait, wait; there’s more: ‘When attempting to break the curse, it shall not matter if the depth of the hole be reduced by the scale of 100 parts to ohus, a hole of two meters and three timeters shall be suffit’.”
“Oh, good. If that’s all, I dig it. No problem,” the Sheep Man said, relieved.
The Sheep Man borrowed the book from the Sheep Professor aurned home. In the book were spelled out tless regulations that had to be followed in order to break the spell. The Sheep Man tried to write them down, one by one.
1) The hole must be dug with a shovel having a handle made of tuneriko wood. (Because the Sheep Saint had carried a staff made of this wood.)
2) The Hole-Falling must occur at 1:16 in the m, on Christmas Eve. (Because the Sheep Saint fell at this time.)
3) At the time of the Hole-Falling, a sack lunch bearing no hole-taining foods must be brought.
Regulations (1) and (2) were fine, and even the rule ing the height of the drop made some sense, but the Sheep Man really couldn’t uand the y of the sack lunch.
“How strahe Sheep Man thought to himself. “But I guess I had better do it the way it says here.”
Christmas Eve was only three days off. In three short days, he had to make a shovel with a handle of tuneriko wood, and dig a hole with a circumference of two meters and a depth of 203 timeters.
“Boy, this is a very strahing that’s happening,” the Sheep Man sighed.
He found a tuneriko tree in the forest, and cut off a small branch. In one day, he mao whittle it into the handle of a shovel. The day, he eo dig the hole in the back yard of his house.
While he was digging, the landlady spotted him.
“You there! What are you digging that hole for?” she demanded.
“I’m digging a hole to dump garbage in,” the Sheep Man replied. “I thought maybe it would be handy.”
“Oh. Is that it? Well, if you try anything funny, I’m gonna call the cops,” the landlady said sfully. With that, she turned and walked away.
Using a measuring tape, the Sheep Man carefully ihat his hole was dug exactly to the specifications for diameter ah.
“That ought to do it,” the Sheep Man said to himself, c the hole with a wooden lid.
At last Christmas Eve arrived. The Sheep Man got a dozen donuts of the twisty variety, without holes, from the donut shop, and packed them in a knapsack. This was the extent of his sack lunch. Finally, he put his wallet and a small flashlight in the breast pocket of his sheep suit, and closed the fastener. At 1:00, he snuck around the house and was engulfed in total darkness. There was no moon and the stars weren’t out, so he could not even see his hand in front of his face.
“It must have been this dark the night the Most Holy Sheep Saint fell into that hole,” the Sheep Man murmured, as he searched for the hole with his flashlight. “It’ll be 1:16 soon. What if I ’t find the hole, and have to wait until Christmas Eve year? That would be awfuuuu...” Just as he said this, the grouh his feet suddenly wasn’t there. The Sheep Man had fallen into the hole.
“Someone must have removed the cover during the day,” the Sheep Man thought as he fell. “I’ll bet is was that nasty landlady. She a藏书网lways hates everything I do.” But when the Sheep Man fihinking this thought, he realized something very strange was happening. “The hole I dug was only 203 timeters deep. Surely, after falling for so long, I should have hit the bottom by now.”
Then suddenly, with quite a thud, the Sheep Man hit the bottom of the hole. And, although the hole was fearfully deep, he eculiarly unhurt.
After shaking his head a little, the Sheep Man tried to shihe flashlight at his surroundings, only to find that the flashlight wasn’t there. He surmised that he must have dropped it when he fell into the hole.
“What’s this, goddamit?” came a voice out of the darkness. “It’s only 1:14. You’re 2 minutes early, goddamit. You’ll have to climb back up to the top and do it again from the beginning.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t see very well because it was dark, and I fell into the hole by act,” the Sheep Man said. “But I’m afraid there’s no way I could climb to the top of a hole that deep.”
“You got to, goddamit. Jeez, a little bit earlier and you could have flattened me. I thought you were ing at 1:16, goddamit.”
There was the sound of a matd a dle was lit. The figure that held the dle was very tall. But though he was very tall, his shoulders were no higher than the Sheep Man’s. His head was very long and twisted around like a twisty donut.
“By the way, goddamit, you better have brought a sack lunch with you when you fell,” the Twist said, “because, if you didn’t, you’re in big trouble, goddamit.”
“Of course I brought it,” the Sheep Man said, nervously.
“Well, give it here, goddamit. I’m starved.”
The Sheep Man opehe knapsad, retrieving the twisty donuts one by one, hahem over to the Twist.
“What the hell’s this?” the Twist said, seeing the donuts. “You must be an idiot t me food that looks like my own goddam head.”
“No, it was a mistake,” the Sheep Man said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I work at a donut shop, you see, and these twisty donuts were the only things that didn’t have holes in them.”
“Ahh! You said ‘twisty’, goddamit!” the Twist said, falling to his kears began to flow from his twisty eyes. “It’s because of this goddam face that I have to stay at the bottom of this goddam hole ahe goddam gate-keeper, goddamit.”
“Oh, I’m such a clod. I mad a mistake. I meant to say ‘twisted’.”
“Well, it’s too late now, goddamit.” the Twist said, still g.
Lag any course of a, the Sheep Marieved one of the twisted donuts, and after untangling the twist and stretg it out straight, ha to the Twist.
“Look, there’s no problem. See, it’s straight. Why don’t you eat it? It’s delicious.”
The Twist took the donut and ate it with relish, although he didn’t st.
While the Twist ate donuts a, the Sheep Man borrowed his dle and iigated the bottom of the hole. It was a bare, broad chamber, taining only the Twist’s bed and desk. “Since he called himself ‘the gatekeeper’, there must certainly be a gate around here somewhere that he’s proteg,” the Sheep Man reasoned. “If there’s not a gate, you certainly don’t need a gatekeeper.”
Speculating thus, the Sheep Man found a small passageway which opened from beside the bed. Taking the dle with him, he climbed into the tunnel.
“If only I hadn’t ate those donuts on Christmas Eve last year, I wouldn’t be up this creek now,” the Sheep Man said to himself.
After about ten more minutes, it slowly began to grow light iunnel. Soon, the mouth of the passage was in view. From outside the hole, bright sunlight spilled in.
“How very strange. When I fell into the hole, it was just past one in the m. It ’t be daw,” the Sheep Man thought, ing his neck.
When he came out of the tunnel, he found a broad, empty clearing before him. Tall trees such as he had never seen before surrouhis clearing. Puffy, white clouds floated in the sky, and he could hear the song<u>９９ｌib?</u> of birds.
“Huh. I wonder what I should do now. In that book, it said that if I fell down the hole then the curse would be broken, but it didn’t mention anything about this.”
Having grown rather hungry, the Sheep Man decided to eat one of the remaining donuts from his knapsack, but while he was nibbling on it, he heard a voice from behind him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sheep Man.”
“Hello.”
Wheurned around to look, he saw twin girls standing there. One wore a shirt bearing the number ‘208’, and the other similarly wore ‘209’.
Aside from the numbers, the two girls were alike in every detail.
“Hey guys,” the Sheep Man said. “Would you like to e over here a donuts with me?”
“Wow, great!” 208 said.
“They look really good,” 209 said.
“They are. I made them myself,” the Sheep Man replied.
So the three of them sat in a row on the ground and ate donuts.
“Thanks for the food,” 209 said.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever had such delicious donuts,” 208 said.
“That’s good,” the Sheep Man said. “By the way, I’ve had this curse put on me, and I was w if you know what I’m supposed to do now. I came here to try to break the spell.”
“How terrible!” 208 said.
“Being cursed must be tough,” 209 said.
“Really tough,” the Sheep Man firmed with a sigh.
“I wonder if he should try visiting the Seagull’s wife,” 209 said to 208.
“That’s a good idea. The seagull’s wife will know what to do, I’ll bet,” 208 said to 209.
“She knows all about curses, after all,” 209 said to 208.
“Hey, you take me to see the Gull’s wife?” the Sheep Man asked excitedly.
“Umm, not the Gull,” said 208.
“The Seagull,” said 209.
“The Gull and the Seagull are totally different, after all,” said 208.
“That’s right,” said 209.
“Sorry, sorry,” the Sheep Man apologized to 208 and 209. “ you take me to see the Seagull’s wife?”
“At your service,” said 208.
“With pleasure,” said 209.
So the twins and the Sheep Man walked along the road through the forest together. As they walked, the twins sang a little song:
Always with the twins,
Even if the wind blows east a.
Always with the twins,
Even if the wind blht a.
After walking for 10 or 15 mihe forest ended and the sea spread out before them for as far as the eye could see.
“ you see the little sha top of that big rock over there? That’s the Seagull’s house,” 209 said, pointing.
“We ’t go outside the forest,” 208 said.
“Well, thank you very much. You have really helped me out,” the Sheep Man replied. He then reached into his knapsack, retrieved two donuts, and handed oo each of the twins.
“Thank you, Mr. Sheep Man,” 208 said.
“Good luck breaking your curse,” 209 said.
Getting to the Seagull’s wife’s house was quite a death-defying endeavor. The rock was rugged and steep, and there was no path to speak of. In addition, a sharp sea breeze threateo blow the Sheep Man off at any time.
“I guess this is OK for the Seagull’s wife, since she fly. But it’s no fun for those of us who have to climb,” the Sheep Man plained.
Somehow, he eventually found his way to the top of the rod knocked on the door of the Seagull’s wife’s house.
“Who’s there? You colleg for the neer?” he heard a loud, rattling voice from within the house say.
“Umm, no...I’m known as the Sheep Man...” he began.
“I don’t want any,” said the voice curtly.
“I’m not a weirdo or anything. Please open the door.”
“You’re really not colleg for the neer?”
Suddenly, the door burst open, and the Seagull’s wife’s face popped out. She was very tall and her beak ointed like a pick-axe.
“The twins told me that you know everything there is to know about curses,” said the Sheep Man, nervously. That beak could have split his head open and killed him. The Seagull’s wife looked him over doubtfully.
“You’ll hafta e inside. I ’t hear a word you’re saying.”
The inside of the house was terribly messy. The floor was covered with dust, a bottle of catsup had spilled all over the table, and the trash was overflowing.
The Sheep Man explained all of the preg events, one by one.
“Boy, that’s tough,” the Seagull’s wife said. “You’ll have to find another way back to your world.”
“But ’t I just go back the way I came?”
“No. Once you’ve e, there’s no going back,” the Seagull’s wife said, shaking her beak from left tht. “I take you to a play back, though, where you get rid of this curse.”
“That would make me awfully happy.”
“But you look pretty heavy,” the Seagull’s wife said, dubiously.
“I’m not heavy at all. I’m barely 75 pounds,” the Sheep Man said, cheating by about 10 pounds.
“All right. Let’s make a deal,” the Seagull’s wife said. “You this room, and I’ll take you to the place where you break your curse.”
“Done.”
But the Seagull’s wife’s house took quite a long time to . It hadn’t been ed in literally months. He scrubbed the plates and tea cups, caked with filth; wiped dowable-top; vacuumed the floor; polished the tiles; and picked up all the trash and threw it out. When he was finished with all of this, the Sheep Man was exhausted.
“I have this blasted curse to thank for all this misery,” he plained silently to himself.
“It looks pretty good,” the Seagull’s wife said, looking satisfied. “A home should always be this .”
“So now you’ll take me to the place where the curse broken?”
“Yeah, I’ll keep my promise. Here, climb on my back.”
Ohe Sheep Man had gotten on, the Seagull’s wife quickly took off into the sky. Sihis was the first time the Sheep Man had ever flown anywhere, he gripped her neck very tightly.
“Hey! You’re hurting me. Don’t pull so hard. I ’t breathe,” the Seagull’s wife growled.
“Oh, I’m really sorry,” the Sheep Man said sheepishly.
From the air, the sea and the forest and the hill were all visible. The green of the forest and the dark blue of the sea stretched out endlessly, with the sandy, white beach like a belt between them. It was an incredibly beautiful view.
“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it,” the Sheep Man said.
“Maybe to you, but I see it everyday, and I’m sick of it,” the Seagull’s wife replied with evident boredom.
In order to stretch her wings a little, she flew around and around in circles over her house, and the down on a prairie not even a hundred yards away.
“What’s wrong, ma’am? Aren’t you feeling well?” the Sheep Man asked with .
“No, I feel fihe Seagull’s wife said shaking her head. “Why would you ask such a stupid question? I’m famous in these parts for my vigour.”
“But why did you set down here, then?”
“Because this is the place,” the Seagull’s wife said.
“But this ’t be more than a hundred yards from your house,” said the Sheep Man with surprise. “If it’s this close, there was no point in riding on your back. I could just as easily have walked.”
“But then you wouldn’t have ed my house for me, would you?”
“Well, no, I guess not, but...”
“Well then, I don’t want to hear another word about the distance. I took you on my back just like I promised.”
“Umm, yes...certainly,” the Sheep Man said, unvinced.
The Seagull’s wife, still laughiily to herself, took off into the air and flew ba the dire of her house.
When the Sheep Man looked around him, he saw a large tree standing in the middle of the prairie. There e ladder attached to the trunk of the tree. Sihere was nothing else in sight, the Sheep Man decided to try to climb to the top of the ladder.
The rope ladder swung bad forth, making it difficult to climb. Sweating heavily, the Sheep Man climbed all the way to the top, 30 or 4s when, from the midst of the limbs, he heard a bright voice say:
“Hey there, what are you doing up here?”
“Oh, excuse me. I’ve e on at of a curse. You ’t help me by any ce, you?” the Sheep Man replied in the dire of the voice.
“A curse, you say? Ah, I see. By all means, e on up,” the voice said.
The Sheep Man, doing his best to keep from slipping, elbowed his way through the branches. Onside, he saw a hole iree that had been fashioned into a small , and in front of the , the Twist squatted, shaving himself with a giant razor.
“Baa...baa...ba,” the Sheep Man stammered. Weren’t you just at the bottom of the hole?”
“Ha, ha. No, that wasn’t me,” the Twist said with a laugh. “That’s my big brother. See, I twist to the right. Big Brother twists to the left. He cries easily and is always sayihings about people.”
Right Twist, with his eyes turo the right and his pointi, was carefully shaving with the razor and giggling all the while.
“From the same family, but your personalities couldn’t be more different,” the Sheep Man said, impressed.
“Well, you knht a are opposites,” Right Twist said, shaving behind his ears. “Ha ha ha ha ha.”
“Now, about this curse...” the Sheep Man began.
“Don’t tell me anything about it, hee hee hee,” Right Twist said. “That’s worse than being cursed, ha ha ha ha ha.”
The Sheep Man desded, furious.
“I really hate this place,” he said. “Right Twist or Left Twist, they’re twisted just the same. And that Seagull’s wife was so selfish.”
Thinking that he couldn’t take much more, the Sheep Man trudged slowly down the road. After walking a little while longer, he spied a beautiful spring, and decided to stop there and drink some water a another donut. When he had fihe donut he began to grow sleepy, and stretg out on the grass beside the spring, had a niap.
When he awoke, it had grown dark and stars shone whitely in the sky. The wind rose with a groaning voice, and sometimes it was mixed with the baying of a wolf.
“I’m exhausted. And on top of that, I’m lost in a strange land. And I still haven’t even broken this founded curse,” the Sheep Man said to himself.
“Umm, I couldn’t help over-hearing you. Being cursed must be a great annoyance,” a timid voice suddenly came out of the darkness.
“Who’s there? Where in the world are you?” the Sheep Man asked, surprised.
“Uhh, I’m nobody, really,” the voice said, sounding embarrassed.
The Sheep Man looked around frantically, but he couldn’t see anything for the darkness.
“Please don’t bother looking for me. I’m not worth the time.”
“Will you e out a donuts with me?” the Sheep Man tried to tempt him. “It’s lonely sitting here by myself.”
“I’m not really worthy of your donuts,” the invisible Nobody said. “Although that does sound awfully nice.”
“It’s OK. I have lots. But if you’re shy, I leave one here for you and then turn around, and then you e here a it. How about that?”
“OK,” nobody said. “But I’m really small, so a half will be plenty.”
The Sheep Man put a donut on the grass and turned around. Before long, there was the sound of someone approag stealthily and theing a donut.
“Oh, this is delicious. Really delicious,” Nobody said. “Don’t turn around.”
“I won’t turn around, but will you please tell me what you know about this curse?” the Sheep Man enquired.
“Oh yes, the curse. Oh, I see. Munch munch. Yes I know something about it,” Nobody said. “Really delicious. Munch munch.”
“Where I go to get rid of it?” the Sheep Man asked.
“Just dive into that spring. Munch munch. It’s really easy,” Nobody said.
“But I don’t know how to swim.”
“You don’t o worry about whether you know how to swim. It’s OK. These are great. Munch munch munch.”
With great trepidation, the Sheep Man walked to the edge of the spring and jumped into the middle, head first. As soon as he dove, however, all of the water vanished, so he landed on his head otom of the hole with a heavy thud. His head swam.
“Oh dear! I’m sorry,” someone said. “I didn’t mean for you to dive in head first.”
When the Sheep Man opened his eyes, there stood before him a little old man about five feet tall.
“Ah! That hurt,” the Sheep Man said. “And just who the heck are you?”
“I am the Most Holy Sheep Saint,” the old man said with a kindly smile.
“You! Why did you put this curse on me? Why did I have to do all that awful stuff? I never did anything bad to anybody, a I have to put up with all of this! I mean, really! My body is sore all over and look, I’ve got this welt on my head,” the Sheep Man said, showing the Most Holy Sheep Saint his welt.
“Yes, I agree. It was terrible. Terrible, indeed. But for this I had my reasons,” the Sheep Saint said.
“Well, I’d really like to hear them,” the Sheep Man said angrily.
“Anon, anon,” the Sheep Saint said. “But first e over here. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
The Sheep Saint turned and walked briskly toward the interior of the hole. The Sheep Man, still shaking his head, followed hesitantly after him. Before long, the Sheep Saint came to stand in front of a door, and promptly ope.
“Merry Christmas!” everyone shouted. Everybody was in the roht Twist awist, 208 and 209, the Seagull’s wife, and even Nobody. Nobody still had crumbs from the donut around his mouth. He could also see a figure that looked like the Sheep Professor.
Ihe room, there was a large decorated Christmas tree. Underh the tree, ed presents tied up with ribbons had been piled.
“What in the world is this? What are all of you doing here?” the Sheep Man said, stunned.
“We’re all waiting for you,” 208 said.
“We’ve been waiting all this time,” 209 said.
“You’ve been io a Christmas party, don’t you see,” the Sheep Saint said.
“But I’ve been cursed, so I...” stammered the Sheep Man.
“I put this curse on you so that you would e here,” the Sheep Saint replied. “This way was exg, and everyone had fun doing it.”
“It certainly was fun. Caw caw,” said the Seagull’s wife.
“And iing, goddammit,” added Left Twist.
“A pleasure, ha ha hee hee,” giggled Right Twist.
“It was delicious,” mumbled Nobody.
Although the Sheep Man was really quite upset about the deception, he soon began to enjoy himself. It was hard to stay mad when everyone around him was having such a good time.
“If that was the reason, I guess it’s OK then,” the Sheep Man said, nodding agreeably.
“Mr. Sheep Man, you ought to play the piano for us,” 208 said.
“You must be very good,” 209 said.
“Is there a piano here?” asked the Sheep Man.
“There is, there is,” the Sheep Saint said, pulling aside a giant cloth. Beh this cover was a white, sheep-shaped piano.
“This piano was made especially for you. Play it to your heart’s tent.”
That night, the Sheep Man was boundlessly happy. The sheep piano made a splendid sound, aiful and delightful melodies dahrough his head, oer another.
Right Twist awist sang, 208 and 209 dahe Seagull’s wife flew around the room g, and the Sheep Professor and the Most Holy Sheep Saint faced off in a beer-drinking test. Nobody rolled over and over on the ground looking happy. Soon, Christmas cake was distributed to everyone.
“Mmm...delicious. Munch munch,” Nobody said, helping himself to a third piece.
“May there be pead happiness in the sheep man world forever,” the Sheep Saint prayed.
When the Sheep Man awoke, he found himself in his own room, in his own bed. Although it seemed as if he was waking up from a dream, he khis was no mere dream. There was still a very distinct bump on his head, there was a grease stain on the back of his sheep’s clothing, and the ramshackle old piano had disappeared from his room, and in it’s place stood the white sheep piano.
This is really what happened when he woke up.
Outside the window, snow had fallen. On the branches of the trees, on the mail boxes, and on the fence posts, white snoiled high.
Iernoon of that day, the Sheep Ma into the suburbs of the town to pay a visit to the Sheep Professor, but the Sheep Professor’s house wasn’t there. There was nothing but a vat lot. The sheep-shaped shrubs and gateposts and paving stones had all disappeared.
“I won’t be able to meet any of those people ever again,” the Sheep Man thought to himself. “The Twists, and the 208 and 209 twins, and the Seagull’s wife, and Nobody, and the Sheep Professor and the Sheep Saint.” Overe with these thoughts, tears streamed from his eyes. He had really grown to like them all a lot.
Wheuro the bhouse, a Christmas card with a picture of a sheep on it had e in the mail. Inside rinted:
May there be pead happiness in the sheep man world forever...
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