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The sun was slowly rising from its night grave as the mourning doves twittered their happy song. Beautiful Sharon Smoth, the goat tenderess was sleeping in her goat tender’s house on top of the mountain. Ahh. . . Sharon! The epitome of loveliness. Each line, curve, and fold was perfectly shaped as if molded by Aphrodite herself. It had been said, in fact, that each piece of her body, if sold, would be worth $100.00 each.

Down at the bottom of the mountain, "Boy", a poor farm boy, was preparing for his long trip up the mountain. Today was the day that he was going to kill Sharon and sell her body to become rich and famous. So Boy started upward. When he finally reached Sharon’s house she was still asleep, and, not wanting to scare her, he snuck over to her bed and quickly slit her body open with a butcher knife. Realizing that he forgot to bring something to carry his victim in, he carefully, so as not to spill too much blood, cut her into seven or eight neat stacks, and lifted them into his arms. Shortly after they started their voyage downward, Boy stumbled and dropped his prize along the rocky mountain wall. It tumbled all the way to the bottom of the mountain, where it came to rest along a bush along a bush. When he finally located the vegetation holding his  clump, he found that all the skin, hair, muscle, and organs had been rubbed off. Dismayed, but still convinced he could make a profit, he stumbled into town to peddle his goods. He ended up paying someone to take them away.

Morale: Rolling bones are better lost.

 © 1983, 

T. G. Taft

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