Mary went to the library to check out a book on Middle Eastern cuisine and, of course, the lamb went too. But the lamb wasn't allowed in the library and that made Mary very upset. "Of course lambs aren't allowed in the library! How stupid of me," Mary said, a little too loudly. Three homeless men looked up from their cigarettes and smirked. Mary was prone to bouts of sarcasm, a very unbecoming characteristic for a young lady, her mother liked to scold. Which only made it worse. It was the dumbest thing Mary had ever heard. Weren't there hundreds if not thousands of references to her inside this very building? Didn't everyone know that everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go? "It's not just a cute little rhyme people!" yelled Mary. A woman grabbed the hands of her young children who were reaching out to pet the lamb and pulled them into the library. "It's my fate!" Mary knew she was having an episode. That's what Dr. Bahb called it. They had been happening more and more frequently. Just last week at the bank, Mary had spit at that sweet teller who was just trying to do her job when she informed Mary that the lamb would have to stay outside. "You try being the object of everyone's collective cultural upbringing!" Mary had screamed. Dr. Bahb had advised that she try to identify where in her body she felt the anger coming from. At first, she thought that was an idiotic suggestion because it didn't come from her at all, it came from everyone who didn't have a clue. But then she noticed that when she got really mad, she felt like her face was about to explode. Is that what Dr. Bahb meant? There was a pressure behind her eyes and a crackling in her hands, and a surging in her heart. The lamb said, "Baaaa. Baaaaa."
tad neuhaus, guitar
joanna dane, vocals, banjo, happy apple