also Paul. She did not feed me Paul. Paul fed himself pie. Aw, shaddap, the sheep never moved.
The foregoing won’t make sense without context.
What kind of sheep never moves? A dead one.
“I saw a dead sheep walking up a hill.” mOm’s line in a letter to me and brO sent when they were in England the last time, and pOp wrote in the margins “I never saw it move.”
English does have a little bit of error correction. Thanks to our epistemological store of justified true beliefs, we do not wander across the sentence, “I saw a dead sheep walking up a hill,” and holler SANTA MARIA MIRACOLO while mashing our knees in prayer. No, we are more likely to query whether the word ‘while’ got lost on its way back from the liquor store, something the word ‘while’ is extremely prone to do if my past experience of it is any indication, and in so doing rendered the sentence ripe for pOp’s deadpan jape.
Osteofit was exhausting. My mood is improved. Paul got thanked a lot.
The new fanfic is up to 2500 words. I’m a thousand words into a near future sixer short story with a new protagonist, but I don’t know whether it’s one of the kids or not; they have neither name nor sex yet but a very distinct, uneasy personality and way of speaking, and I think I actually need to look at all the concepts I introduce in a thousand words and make it two because it’s not cunning dense, it’s just overwhelming dense. But there’s the seed of something just lovely in there, another action packed non commentary on