Stray Sheep: Francis Mutton Chapter 1
Franklin Tharp
Sixty-four black and white squares are all that lie between me and becoming a Shepherd. While, I know I aced the aptitude test, I didn’t do as well on the obstacle course as I would have liked, and I absolutely could not bring myself to club that baby seal like the instructors wanted, so I have to do really well against this computer. My life from today forward depends on this game.
It’s just me versus a giant robotic claw in the center of an ice-cold auditorium while everyone watches, as if I’m a gladiator being fed to the lions.
Twenty moves into the game and I’m down one pawn and struggling for control of the center. I wish the crowd would start talking and being loud again; it’d be better than listening to the sound of my heart popping out of my chest like in those old cartoons.
Sixty moves in and it’s over. Using nothing but a queen and a knight the claw checkmated me by using my own pieces to block me in. Cue the obligatory polite applause while I try not to cry, vomit or pass out.
The tribunal of judges who will decide my fate wait in a small, sterile, white room, just beyond the auditorium. I stop to compose myself before I go in. I know I’m ****, but I can at least face failure with dignity, like a man.
“Mr. Francis Mutton, there you are, please have a seat.”
Said, the head shepherd in middle of the tribunal, an elderly grey haired man. “Your aptitude test was astounding, you scored a 97%; one of the highest scores we’ve seen in a long time. Your time on the obstacle course was lackluster, although that could be blamed on asthma and puberty or lack thereof, so you don’t qualify to be a Sheepdog. Like your aptitude test, your chess game was very impressive. You lasted twice as long as the average applicant and demonstrated a very strong critical thought process, even under pressure.”
“T-thank you sir.”
“Yes, impressive as your academic talents are, I don’t believe you have the stomach to be a Shepherd. You failed to bludgeon the baby seal we set in front of you. A good shepherd needs to be able to make the hard decisions, that’s what being a leader is all about, being able to make difficult choices and get your hands dirty for the good of our fragile society.”
That just didn’t make any sense, “But sir what does clubbing a baby seal have to do with the good of society.”
“You’re a clever boy, but I fear you are too young to comprehend such things. You’re a Sheep; that’s not to say you won’t be successful in life. With your smarts you could be a doctor or engineer or really anything you except a politician or a policeman or soldier or anything else that’s restricted to Shepherds or Sheepdogs. Your fingerprints and DNA will be entered into the system before you leave. Goodbye Francis and have a nice life.”
A pretty redheaded attendant took my fingerprints and DNA, then handed me a copy of my personal record.
Name: Francis Mutton
Age: Fourteen
Approx Height: 4’5
Approx Weight: 80lbs
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Status: Sheep student
Special notes: Small stature and asthma make him a bad fit for a physical vocation but is highly intelligent. Recommended for a high track education.
I suppose I shouldn’t be too disappointed. I’ll still have a good life, get a good job, make money, and have a family. I just can’t shake the feeling that I failed though. My parents really thought I had a chance to be a Shepherd, and then I’d have a chance to change how Sheep get treated, maybe even abolish the Sheep-Shepherd system entirely. I hope they won't be too disappointed. Sigh, my entire family is made up of Sheep.
* * *
“Cheer up Francis, you may not have become a Shepherd but you’re still one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, including adults. Now stop sulking; seriously, it’s getting annoying.”
“Maddy, for your information my head is down because it’s 7 am, not because I’m sulking. Besides, isn’t doing that lame end of the year play enough of a cause for sulking?”
“Don’t be like that! It’s tradition that all graduating 8th grade classes preform the retelling of how the original Shepherds came together to relieve the Sheep of the burden of self-rule and the hard decisions. Even if the play is lame, it’s totally worth it to see you in that sheep costume.”
That sarcastic laugh she has almost makes being the sheep worth it. Almost. Come to think of it, “What’re you doing for the play anyways?”
“I’m working the curtain.”
“Lucky you. I still don’t see why I have to be the sheep anyways.”
“Because you’re a shrimp and a Sheep, nerd.” “Good one Rich.”
Great, Richard and George just has to start things up right now. “Hey there Dick, didn’t know that was you for a second. The gel in your hair was reflecting light in my eyes.”
“I can let that mouth of yours slide for now. I mean I can’t really blame you for being jealous that I became a Shepherd and George here became a Sheepdog. As for my hair; haters gonna hate.”
“What Maddie, not going to say anything?”
“It’d be a waste of breath, besides you are the only kid who can fit the sheep costume comfortably. Just ignore them for a little while longer, it’s not like you’re going to see them again after this school year ends.”
As if I’ll see you again either. Listen to teachers talk about how proud they are of us, eat lunch, talk with friends, get harassed by jerks who are either mad about their placement or lording it over others, repeat step one, go to the dress rehearsal, and preform the play. “Attention students.”
Mrs. Pendleton is probably just going to give us a pre-show pep talk. “It seems that Lindsay has food poisoning and can’t say the Shepherd’s Praise before the performance. Who’d like to do it in her stead?”
“You know Mrs. Pendleton, I honestly think Francis should do it. He’s the smartest kid in our grade I’m sure he’ll do a great job.” That **** Robert is setting me up.
“I-I really don’t want to Mrs. Pendleton.”
Everyone knows I stutter when I speak in front the class, not to mention a crowd this big. “Please do it Frances, no one else really wants to do it and it’s obvious that Robert genuinely believes you can do this.” Crap, now I’ll look like a jerk if I don’t recite the Praise.
“Fine, just let me take off the sheep costume first.”
“Mrs. Pendleton, I think the costume adds a bit of thematic relevance to the Praise. A Sheep, thanking a Shepherd for all the latter has done for the former.”
There are just so many things about that sentence that **** me off.
“Great idea Richard. Oh, my, you’d better get out there Francis.”
With which she pushed me through the curtains to the microphone. Oh crap. It’s just like the Shepherd chess game; a whole ton of people staring at me while I sweat bullets under blinding lights, listening to my heart pound. Gulp. “I thank the Shepherds, for all t-t-th-they’ve d-done. For t-their tireless protection ag-gainst the c-c-c-chaos of the w-or–.”
I just hit the ground with such a loud thud.
Who’s that standing over me? “Francis, are you okay?”
Oh, it’s Maddie, she looks pretty good in black.
“Yeah, how long was I out?” My head hurts. “About, five minutes, don’t worry your part isn’t for another ten minutes. Also, after they found out you were okay, everyone burst out laughing. Money even changed hands.”
“What do you mean money changed hands?”
By the look on her face, I don’t think I wanna know. “Well…. Richard and George were betting on if you’d pass out or wet yourself on stage. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that. Hey where are you going?”
“Don’t worry Maddie, I’ll be back in time or my part.”
Those ****! They’ve humiliated me for the last damn time; I need to get them back at least once. I think there’s still some paint on the catwalk. Black paint works. Crap the can is mostly full, and heavy, very heavy. Oh, ****, I fell again, got black paint all over me and broke a light.
Oh my god. I hear people freaking out, I am so dead for this. Gotta get out of here. The wet paint actually made sliding down the ladder easier, but kinda makes it hard to see. I wonder what everyone freaked out about; it was just a ligh- oh **** smoke. I set the school on fire.
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