Day 5: I think the flock is beginning to suspect. As I pass among them I can hear whispers, and they often avert their eyes as I approach. I have traced the source of these rumors to the one they call “Harold.” He’s that most dangerous of creatures: a clever sheep. I must regain his trust or my mission is lost.
(All right, you’ve got this. You’re the sheepdog, and those are the sheep — docile, afraid, just waiting for a leader to step in and herd them where they need to go. And that leader is you. This is your moment. Now show those sheep who’s boss!)
Shear cowardice, Paul P.
Good evening and welcome to the Pasture Room, where the elite meet to bleat, with all drinks hoof price at happy hour. I’m your entertainer, Herb Ivore, the best pianist in my field — or yours, ha-ha — playing all your requests this evening, like “I Only Have Eyes for Ewe,” “Love Wool Find a Way,” “Herd it Through the Grapevine,” and this little number, “Catch a Falling Shear,” hope you like it…
Now I’ve herd everything, John B.
Fifty-fifty
Bored Panda, via Laura H.
#1: Crosses bridge without getting feet wet
Pawpulous, via Cheryl S.
Includes video evidence of said squeaking.
Love Meow, via Andrew Y.
Beats hopping a bus, Dana D.