Bentley lived on a sprawling
five acre farm, where he and his wife, Emma Lou, raised two children and a
large herd of sheep. Bentley said it was
much easier raising the sheep. They were
easier for their dog to herd and they cost less to feed.
He was always bragging about
the blue ribbons his kids won every year at the county fair. “Next year we’re going to enter a couple of
sheep,” he boasted. “Hopefully they’ll
show as well as the kids.”
My wife and I, and our two
children, also lived on a five acre farm, although it wasn’t sprawling like
Bentley’s farm.
The fact that we were just
raising our children on the farm bothered Bentley; not that they weren’t blue
ribbon quality, but that we were wasting good space not raising something
else.
“You need to get yourself
some chickens,” Bentley said one day.
“Do they come with a
rooster?” I asked.
“You gotta have a rooster
with chickens,” he went on.
“No thanks,” I answered.
“Five acres isn’t enough room for a rooster.”
Bentley was unaware of my
tormented past…with Rudy, Gramps’ demon-possessed rooster.
No comments:
Post a Comment