There was once a young shepherd tending a flock of sheep at the foot of a mountain near a dark forest. One day, suddenly, as if it were a calling from a shepherd legacy, it struck him that his life circumstances and the milieu within which he resided resembled the situation in the story of the ‘boy who cried wolf’.
Now that he thought about it, it was just perfect. He had to wait just a little while for his days to finally become boring and routine. In any case, it was one of the prerequisites for such an unjustifiably puerile act. Not now. Definitely not now, he thought; what with all the chaos surrounding his adulterous wife. It would just be a case of overkill if he pranked the villagers’ right then. Once she would become servile to him again, the excitement would be doused and he would be bored again.
He couldn’t wait. He’d decided. He would delude the villagers into believing that there was a wolf on the prowl. He couldn’t contain it. He would finally revel in the pleasure of watching the villagers drop everything and rush to his aid. Alas! Something stimulating. He conferred for a while with his flock of sheep; after all they should not be seen strutting their fluffy stuff and preening in harmony when a wolf is supposed to be unleashed on them. Only then would it prolong the excitement, as well as the time it would take for villagers to realize that there was, in fact, no wolf. He could only hope that they hadn’t heard the story before. What a lark. Of course that’s what the sheep felt as well. He was convinced he hadn’t come of age yet and that is why it would be perfectly fine for him to pull a prank like this on the villagers. After all, he was not inherently evil. He was a young man and he needed his amusement, he thought to himself, unlike the other men in the village who only drunk themselves to the lees and lusted after their friends’ wives. Also, he admitted to himself sheepishly, it would be riotous to watch that balmy old codger Benson bumble his way up the hill, his face inflamed with the exercise and his distended stomach bouncing wildly all the way.
The day had finally arrived. Oh well, it didn’t go as planned with his wife, as she decided to elope with her inamorato as opposed to remaining with him. Oh well, he had greater and bigger things planned. He’d played it over and over again in his mind too many times now. He scrunched up his sleeves and rolled the pant legs halfway up his calves and tried to look as hassled and distraught as he could manage. At 12 noon sharp, in preparation, he started running from afar and ran straight into the village, and sang out “Wolf! Wolf!”
The villagers were blithe and happy that day. It was one of those days, not the one when the sun shines brightly over the vale, casting the village in a flaxen hue and everyone goes about their daily business in harmony. It was one of those days when they ran the ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ marathon from 10 in the morning to 6 and the husbands lounged curled up with their wives in their eco friendly recliners, treating themselves to fruit punches, each of them assuring their friends they were watching “the match”.
When they heard the shepherd, they started; came out, arduously climbed the hill only to find no wolf. The shepherd swore he saw one. They believed him. They would believe him this one time.
Anyhow, the boy greatly delighted in his ingenuity. He was almost sure they would have at least an inkling of what he was trying to pull. The next day he donned the same look as before, also imagining that he looked strappy that day. He was content. Ceremoniously, he cried “Wolf! Wolf!” He waited ten minutes.
No response. Dang it, did I not do that right? He mused. This was not cool. He shouted again, louder. Right enough, a few seconds after, he sighted them bounding up the hill. Again, no wolf.
Soon after, as if in profound enlightenment, they finally saw through his dissimulation. The little bloke was so presumptuous as to think the villagers were daft and they would comply just because he was “boy who cried wolf”. The nerve of that punk!
As enraged as they were, they decided to not penalize him. They could understand he was a little delirious after his wife ran out on him, leaving him all alone with the sheep. They expected him to do the same next day, and as the legend goes, they would just ignore him. They were also pretty confident no wolf would attack; the boy could scream himself hoarse for all they cared. The neighbourhood gossips were right. He was as loony as he was obese.
On the third, always the day of verdict, the shepherd did what he did best. He cried wolf. The village ignored him, they were wise, and so they all knew. All but one. It was the village superintendent’s mother, who had just arrived from the neighbouring village where she lived with her other children. Overwhelmed by her Freudian phobia of wolves, she suffered a massive stroke and succumbed. This was the final straw. The villagers formed a posse and decided it was time to teach the boy a lesson. By word of mouth, the shepherd learned of what was to befall him. He went to his sheep, they pitied him. He’d always taken care of them. They were also complicit in the act with him, and they were not sorry. It was not always about the villagers. Suddenly, they were furious as well. What the hell. The one time they decided to have some fun for a change the villagers felt the need to crucify them in this manner. The sheep and their shepherd would not cower down.
The day of confrontation had arrived. The villagers with the superintendent gathered by the hill, faces flushed in outrage. The village superintendent, Mr. Carey stepped forward, raised his head unseeingly, and uttered a guttural cry, “Come out Boy, we need to have a little talk”. Although his voice echoed through the heavens, it was not heard all the way over on the other side of the hill by the boy and the flock. Swallowing this twinge of embarrassment, he sent for a megaphone to be brought to him.
Hearing the message, the shepherd thundered back “No you come here if you want to talk”. Incredulous, the villagers made their way over to the enemy’s territory. Needless to say, they were stupefied when they beheld an entire army consisting of the boy and the 2 sheep on either side of him forming the vanguard, and the rest following close behind, each cloning the other’s expression, furious and filled with conviction. So it was going to be like this.
The two armies continued advancing until they were finally face to face. Mr. Carey took a step forward and so did the boy with his vanguard. What seemed like a negotiation quickly turned into a heated altercation. It wasn’t long before the two armies merged and began to pummel one another. It was a colourful pandemonium indeed. Just when everyone had forgotten all about the famed wolf, it appeared, in all it’s russet coloured majesty. Watching the frenzy in front of him, the wolf excitedly pounced on the variety of heaps and gleefully meandered through them. Finally, the two armies realized the presence of the wolf and stopped their fighting. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” asked Mr. Carey. Bewildered, the wolf said that he was only doing his job as a villain in a fairy tale. The boy and the villagers were outraged, bristling with annoyance. “You’re just the stupid wolf now. You might’ve been celebrated in the past, for reasons we can’t seem to fathom. Now, we don’t care for your barbarism, not when we have more eccentric and maverick villains like the Joker and Captain Jack Sparrow. So bugger off, you fun sucking philistine!” The poor wolf was stumped. It turned on its heels and bounded away, far from the village, never to be seen again. The absurdity of it all united them and the two parties wondered why they fought in the first place. The shepherd and the superintendent smiled at each other benevolently, turned away against the crepuscular light and walked back to their homes. Yes, they did live happily ever after.
Aditi Banerjee
Now that he thought about it, it was just perfect. He had to wait just a little while for his days to finally become boring and routine. In any case, it was one of the prerequisites for such an unjustifiably puerile act. Not now. Definitely not now, he thought; what with all the chaos surrounding his adulterous wife. It would just be a case of overkill if he pranked the villagers’ right then. Once she would become servile to him again, the excitement would be doused and he would be bored again.
He couldn’t wait. He’d decided. He would delude the villagers into believing that there was a wolf on the prowl. He couldn’t contain it. He would finally revel in the pleasure of watching the villagers drop everything and rush to his aid. Alas! Something stimulating. He conferred for a while with his flock of sheep; after all they should not be seen strutting their fluffy stuff and preening in harmony when a wolf is supposed to be unleashed on them. Only then would it prolong the excitement, as well as the time it would take for villagers to realize that there was, in fact, no wolf. He could only hope that they hadn’t heard the story before. What a lark. Of course that’s what the sheep felt as well. He was convinced he hadn’t come of age yet and that is why it would be perfectly fine for him to pull a prank like this on the villagers. After all, he was not inherently evil. He was a young man and he needed his amusement, he thought to himself, unlike the other men in the village who only drunk themselves to the lees and lusted after their friends’ wives. Also, he admitted to himself sheepishly, it would be riotous to watch that balmy old codger Benson bumble his way up the hill, his face inflamed with the exercise and his distended stomach bouncing wildly all the way.
The day had finally arrived. Oh well, it didn’t go as planned with his wife, as she decided to elope with her inamorato as opposed to remaining with him. Oh well, he had greater and bigger things planned. He’d played it over and over again in his mind too many times now. He scrunched up his sleeves and rolled the pant legs halfway up his calves and tried to look as hassled and distraught as he could manage. At 12 noon sharp, in preparation, he started running from afar and ran straight into the village, and sang out “Wolf! Wolf!”
The villagers were blithe and happy that day. It was one of those days, not the one when the sun shines brightly over the vale, casting the village in a flaxen hue and everyone goes about their daily business in harmony. It was one of those days when they ran the ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ marathon from 10 in the morning to 6 and the husbands lounged curled up with their wives in their eco friendly recliners, treating themselves to fruit punches, each of them assuring their friends they were watching “the match”.
When they heard the shepherd, they started; came out, arduously climbed the hill only to find no wolf. The shepherd swore he saw one. They believed him. They would believe him this one time.
Anyhow, the boy greatly delighted in his ingenuity. He was almost sure they would have at least an inkling of what he was trying to pull. The next day he donned the same look as before, also imagining that he looked strappy that day. He was content. Ceremoniously, he cried “Wolf! Wolf!” He waited ten minutes.
No response. Dang it, did I not do that right? He mused. This was not cool. He shouted again, louder. Right enough, a few seconds after, he sighted them bounding up the hill. Again, no wolf.
Soon after, as if in profound enlightenment, they finally saw through his dissimulation. The little bloke was so presumptuous as to think the villagers were daft and they would comply just because he was “boy who cried wolf”. The nerve of that punk!
As enraged as they were, they decided to not penalize him. They could understand he was a little delirious after his wife ran out on him, leaving him all alone with the sheep. They expected him to do the same next day, and as the legend goes, they would just ignore him. They were also pretty confident no wolf would attack; the boy could scream himself hoarse for all they cared. The neighbourhood gossips were right. He was as loony as he was obese.
On the third, always the day of verdict, the shepherd did what he did best. He cried wolf. The village ignored him, they were wise, and so they all knew. All but one. It was the village superintendent’s mother, who had just arrived from the neighbouring village where she lived with her other children. Overwhelmed by her Freudian phobia of wolves, she suffered a massive stroke and succumbed. This was the final straw. The villagers formed a posse and decided it was time to teach the boy a lesson. By word of mouth, the shepherd learned of what was to befall him. He went to his sheep, they pitied him. He’d always taken care of them. They were also complicit in the act with him, and they were not sorry. It was not always about the villagers. Suddenly, they were furious as well. What the hell. The one time they decided to have some fun for a change the villagers felt the need to crucify them in this manner. The sheep and their shepherd would not cower down.
The day of confrontation had arrived. The villagers with the superintendent gathered by the hill, faces flushed in outrage. The village superintendent, Mr. Carey stepped forward, raised his head unseeingly, and uttered a guttural cry, “Come out Boy, we need to have a little talk”. Although his voice echoed through the heavens, it was not heard all the way over on the other side of the hill by the boy and the flock. Swallowing this twinge of embarrassment, he sent for a megaphone to be brought to him.
Hearing the message, the shepherd thundered back “No you come here if you want to talk”. Incredulous, the villagers made their way over to the enemy’s territory. Needless to say, they were stupefied when they beheld an entire army consisting of the boy and the 2 sheep on either side of him forming the vanguard, and the rest following close behind, each cloning the other’s expression, furious and filled with conviction. So it was going to be like this.
The two armies continued advancing until they were finally face to face. Mr. Carey took a step forward and so did the boy with his vanguard. What seemed like a negotiation quickly turned into a heated altercation. It wasn’t long before the two armies merged and began to pummel one another. It was a colourful pandemonium indeed. Just when everyone had forgotten all about the famed wolf, it appeared, in all it’s russet coloured majesty. Watching the frenzy in front of him, the wolf excitedly pounced on the variety of heaps and gleefully meandered through them. Finally, the two armies realized the presence of the wolf and stopped their fighting. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” asked Mr. Carey. Bewildered, the wolf said that he was only doing his job as a villain in a fairy tale. The boy and the villagers were outraged, bristling with annoyance. “You’re just the stupid wolf now. You might’ve been celebrated in the past, for reasons we can’t seem to fathom. Now, we don’t care for your barbarism, not when we have more eccentric and maverick villains like the Joker and Captain Jack Sparrow. So bugger off, you fun sucking philistine!” The poor wolf was stumped. It turned on its heels and bounded away, far from the village, never to be seen again. The absurdity of it all united them and the two parties wondered why they fought in the first place. The shepherd and the superintendent smiled at each other benevolently, turned away against the crepuscular light and walked back to their homes. Yes, they did live happily ever after.
Aditi Banerjee
