One day in ten was a day of rest from school and factory, although they were expected to gather in the square at midday to receive their revolutionary...lesson. At sunset, she sat with her parents for food. On the wooden table were three bowls, three cups, and a jug. She shovelled the rice into her mouth, pushing the food in too quickly, until a sharp knock on the table from her father made her slow down. He was a harsh man of few words. Just a look, and the occasional sound, were all it took to. Oh! Fuck this, thought Rambo. Rain was hitting him like miniature scythes, bouncing off of his head and back, running into his eyes, dripping of his black and white coat, matting his fur into sodden strands that looked like a Rastafarian hair do. A cold wind kept blasting him from any direction it felt like and it was as much as he could do to keep from shivering to bits.The weather wasn’t the worst of his problems though. The flock of belligerent, bastard sheep that were as pissed off with the. More

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