Seven years ago there was this hippie sheep deep in the depths of New Zealand. He left home to find himself. Grew his wool out, smoked some weed, hung out in a cave with all the other outcast hippie sheep.

They found him about a year ago and named him Shrek. Sheered that sucker on International T.V., sent him to rehab and now he’s a fine upstanding sheep citizen once again. Poor guy. He looks pissed. I’d be pissed, too, if someone took me outta my cave and named me after a fat green ogre.

One thought on “Conformity

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