My eye was particularly drawn to one lusty looking Ewe who went by the name of Smasher. Something about her took my fancy and I idled the entire afternoon gazing upon her as she ambled listlessly from hillock to hillock; gouging herself on chomploads of fine British grass and occasionally plopping out the odd tiny pebble-dash of poo that grenaded from her posterior and careered gently down the hillside towards me (hidden of course, in a cunning disguise).
After hours of this Smasher had clearly eaten her fill, and she gave a short melodious bleat to signal the beginning of playtime.
From her ornately carved play-box Smasher extricated a neat pile of Slinky Toys, and began nudging them down the slopes of the lush knolls with the kind of gay-abandon one usually only finds with toddlers and the very very simple.
There was no complex explanation behind this as we all know that sheep do love a good play, and what is more fun than a Slinky Toy? Especially when one resides mainly upon a fine British hill.
As the sun set; Smasher returned her Slinkies to her ornately carved playbox and retired with her fellow Sheep to a small bar at the foot of the hill. I was denied entry on account of my footwear (It was a Hooves and no trainers dress code). So I listened enviously from outside as the Sheep drank and laughed their night into an ovine-gasmic climax.
WARNING
Slinky's are not suitable for use as masturbatory aids.
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| A wonderful Sheep and her toys |
Rob you are weird. Officilly
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