Andrew Schwark

Feast or Famine

Maybelline strut down the center aisle, unaffected by the various calls of the onlookers. She had done this before and her mission was of no less import than any other time. The air grew in fresh fragrance as the light drew nearer with every purposeful step. The commotion behind her continued and seemed to swell as the distance to her goal shrank away. The next few steps were always the most fearful and yet exciting as she was about to be overcome by the sheer brightness of the light. Her desire for what came after drove her forward unfalteringly. Bursting through the stale darkness and emerging gloriously into the brilliant atmosphere proved to much to contain,  and Maybelline allowed her electric joy to shoot from her limbs as she took two playful hops. Turning about, she stared into the darkness she had just escaped and let out a bleat to allow her comrades the hope that it was indeed a beautiful day outside. A second bleat was offered as thanks to the good Farmer Brown for relieving the building pressure in her udder with his skillful hands. Having offered her encouragement and gratitude, it was time to go and rediscover the delights of this world, mainly in finding that elusive patch of clover.