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Predator Press

[LOBO]

“Ethan,” I says. “I quit.”

“You quit what?”

“I quit Hawley Enterprises.”

“You quit doing what exactly?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help me out with that. I’m having a lot of trouble with my ‘Letter of Resignation’.

“What brought this on?” says Ethan.

“I’ve decided I want to be a sheepherder.”

“A sheepherder.”

“Think about it. The sheep is not a very fast animal.”

“Do tell.”

“Yeah. I figure I could virtually watch the little bastards disappear over the horizon, and still catch 'em in a jeep like an hour later.”

“Possibly,” says Ethan, scratching his chin. “But you would have to protect the sheep from predators too.”

“Oh please,” I says. “The only other animals I ever see around sheep are cows, and cows are pussies. My sheep will be combat-trained, hardened bad-asses.”

I drift off for a second.

My sheep will have leather jackets.

“What do you think ‘Sheepherder’ pays?”, asks Ethan.

“$40-$60 thousand a year according to this Devry University brochure. Next semester –Satellite Tracking, GPS and Radio starts in three weeks.”

“Really?”

“It ends in four.”