A Sheep Called Pepito

His insides shook so much that Saturday's beer began to froth and rise in his stomach.

He liked Noel, and they shared a common interest; a love of Fords. Ray's car was a conservative late model Fairmont; neat, tidy and meticulous. Noel was stuck somewhere in the 1980's. He owned an older square shaped Falcon and he had a classic 2 door GT in his garage which he took out once a week, usually on a Sunday if the weather was good. He had owned it since new and it was in pristine condition. It was rumoured Noel used Drake's MasterShine on it every week. He'd had it completely restored back to original showroom condition; no expense spared. It had cost him thirty thousand dollars to restore. A bugger to start and a tank to drive, and it occupied the only car space in the garage and had done so ever since Noel first purchased it. To a non believer it all seemed totally ridiculous, but to Noel it was a passion. And Ray shared that passion. A pity Katrina, his ex- didn't see the value of it all.

After a few moments reminiscing about the good old days of Ford at Bathurst, the men got back to work.

"So what kind of car was the other one that got hit?"

Poole shrugged. "How would I know? I was trying to get to work on time."

Ray thought he could have added: 'for a change.'

"Who gives a shit, anyway?" Poole went on, unnecessarily. He sounded callous, but the facts spoke for themselves: twelve deaths on that stretch of road in one year left everyone feeling a little hardened. It was a regular occurrence, and those people that passed by every day would have thought; 'not another one.'

"So what's in the pot today?"

"I've got to proofread this sheep disease story, and after that it's on its own. I'll email it to the printers. Bluey said he was coming in sometime this morning and then heading off down south to interview Lionel Fisher."

Poole adopted a puppet-like stance. "Fisher? Didn't we interview him a couple of issues back?"

Ray nodded. "We did a four page spread on him attempting to get into the Guinness Book of Records by attempting to skydive with a sheep strapped to his back."

"Ah, that's right!" Poole barked. "What a load of crap that turned out to be. We all ended up with a bit of egg there."

Ray told him he was still wiping the egg off his face over the incident. "We really should have reconsidered that one."

"He's a fool. He's a few cents short in the dollar," Poole said.

Ray had to agree. And we were too, he thought, for covering the story. "The shearer's love him, though. But don't ask me why."

"Skydiving with a sheep, Ray, for God's sake! Who the hell but Lionel Fisher would do a damned stupid thing like that?"

But, despite this, somebody else obviously had, and not only with one sheep; with tandem sheep. Some crazy fool in France had done it all before. It made them realise how important it was to get their facts straight. Because right from the start the event was never going to make headlines. Had they only known it had been done before...

"So, is he attempting the record again, this time with three sheep? How do you reckon he gets the sheep to stay with him all that distance, and how does one fasten sheep to one parachute?"

"Beats me," Ray agreed. "I think there's a place in Sydney that creates custom designed parachutes."

"It would have cost a fortune," Noel barked.