I was dashing down the road with my booty one night when I heard the word, “Stop.”
I turned around and saw a little man who said, “I am Stan Bolovan, who eats rocks all night and feeds on flowers all day. If you meddle with those sheep, I will carve a cross on your back.”
Standing there in the middle of the road, I tried to hide my shivers. I felt pretty sure I had met my match. He picked up a rock and said, “Go and get a stone like this out of the river and let’s see who is the best man.”
When I came back with my rock he said, “Can you get buttermilk out of your stone?”
Uh, nope. If I could get buttermilk out of a stone, why would I bother with sheep?