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 in the day feeds on the flowers of the mountain. And 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 challenged me to fight, 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?