It all started when the edge of the city lapped up against the old boneyard. For years the place had slept in the sun near an old church, surrounded by paddocks and cows.
“Hungry!” roared the city.
“Get lost,” mooed the cows. “This is our place.”
“Gimme your land,” ordered the city.
“No,” said the farmers. “This is our place.”
The city licked its chops. The farmers growled. The cows mooed.
The city won, of course. Cities always win.
Within a year the city had eaten the paddocks. The farmers went to work driving trucks. The cows packed their bags and found somewhere else to live.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for reading