"Wanna be ram. Wanna have wimmen. Wanna have lambs. Wanna eat. S'what sheep do, y'know. Got all that."
"Brillo, listen carefully. I can make you one of the pretty rams. I can make the Flo lady like you. You can have all the wim . . . women you want. You can be king of the rams, with my help."
"Don' wanna be pretty. Useless, they are. Can't fight, can't protect. Run like rabbits. Don' wanna be king. Too much paperwork. Why do?"
"Do it because you'd have the respect of the yoo . . . humans, Brillo. Do it because you're the best ram ever. I can make it happen, with a wave of my wand," the shape answered. "Just ask, and I'll do it. Tomorrow morning, the Flo lady will come out and be happy to see you."
"Flo lady already happy to see me. Me here, wimmen here, lambs here. She don't like to say, but she happy. Only want one thing."
"Well, I really want to give such a wonderful ram something," the shape answered. "What do you want most of all?"
"Don wanna say out loud. Come closer."
"I don't think so, buddy. I don't think I trust you that much. I said I'm a fairy god ewe, not that I'm stupid."
"Aw, come on. Won' do nuttin'. Just don' wanna say out loud," Brillo said, with his best imitation of injured feelings. Here, fishy, fishy, he thought.
"Well, okay. I'll come closer and you can whisper in my ear," the shapely ewe answered as she moved closer. "Just don't get any ideas, buster."
Brillo waited patiently as the nervous ewe moved within his range. Finally, after a lot of skittering around, there she was. Brillo quickly reached over and grabbed the glowing wand, crunched it up, and swallowed.
"Oh, no!" screamed the fairy god ewe, as her magic fell away. "You've turned me into a real ewe, you lousy . . ."
Brillo turned his now faintly glowing eyes upon her and grinned evilly. Very evilly. "Yup. Now, about that wish, honeybunch . . ."
"It's got to be an uptimer. Got to be. It's the `Here, Fishy, Fishy' line. Remember, I bought you one of those tee-shirts once. The one with the trout on it. And the one that said "I fish because the voices in my head tell me to."
J.D. grinned. "You did. Didn't they both go in the pile of stuff we gave away for the refugees?"
"Darn, yes, they did," Flo answered. "I guess those jokes wouldn't take much explaining, would they? Wonder if I'll ever know who's doing these?"
"Doesn't really matter, does it?" J.D. asked.
"Oh, I suppose not. It's just unsatisfied curiosity, I guess. I'd just like to know."
The Ransom of Brillo
Paula Goodlett
"What the . . ." Flo started to exclaim, then noticed J.D.'s grin. "What's so funny, so early, J.D.?"
"Somebody left this on the porch last night, Flo." J.D. snickered as he handed Flo another broadsheet.
"Oh, no. Please not another one." Flo moaned. "I just can't deal with another one of those things. That ram may be a big part of the business, but those stories are beginning to be an embarrassment. Nothing on earth could walk with that, that . . . kind of equipment"
"Whoever's doing it has kind of settled down on that part. The `equipment' isn't any bigger this time. The story, though, now that is really funny."
"Did he save the world for democracy again? Beat up a wolf? Tear the seat out of my jeans? What now?"
"Here, silly. Just read the darn thing."
The broadsheet had the usual heading of a pretty ram and a notso pretty ram. Flo didn't even want to look at the not-so pretty ram. The story read:
THE RANSOM OF BRILLO
(Names have been changed to protect the guilty)
These yoomuns is gonna regret this, Brillo thought. They is really, really gonna regret this.
Brillo was trudging along between two young men who had placed a rope around his neck and forced him to desert his harem. He was not a happy camper.
Brillo suddenly stopped, planted his feet and jerked his head. As the ropes loosened he began to run, only to be jerked to a halt. "And just where do you think you're going, buster?" one of the men asked. "We know your tricks, and we're ready for them. Just be a nice little sheep and everything will be okay."
Nice little sheep! How dare they? Brillo thought. I'm gonna show them `nice.' Come a little closer, yoomun, come a little closer.
As one of the overconfident young men got a bit too close, Brillo used his left horn to snag his trousers and jerk him off his feet. When the man was down, Brillo followed up with a "nice" little trample across his belly.