Sheer Acceptance

A couple struggles with a sheep that cannot be sheered and tangle with their relationship.

EXT. STOCKTON FARM FRONT PORCH - EARLY EVENING

Mr.Stockton and his Wife Mrs. Stockton sit on the front porch in small chairs like they do most evenings. A small table with a set of broken sheers sits between them. Mr. Stockton is a white man in his mid-fifties. He has mostly grey hair and rough stubble. Mrs. Stockton is a woman of similar age; she is slightly short, and her narrow shoulders accentuate her extremely slight weight. She talks and moves with constant nervous energy.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    I'm sorry the potatoes had lumps tonight.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Grunting)

    I think they tasted fine

                MRS. STOCKTON

    I supposed I really should've used more milk.

The two sit in silence for a moment. Mr. Stockton fumbles with and smokes a cigarette. Mrs. Stockton bounces her fingers against each other.

                MR. STOCKTON

    I broke another pair of clippers today, real nice ones too. That pair I picked up at the hardware store last weekend.

He picks up the broken clippers from the table and considers them for a moment before throwing them down at his feet.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Indicating with his cigarette)

    The man said these were carbon steel. Said there wasn't a type of sheep it couldn't shear. What a load of s**t, damn things broke as soon as I tried to use 'em. Not to mention they got so tangled up I ruined my knife prying them out of there.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    I'm sorry dear, I wish you wouldn't get so wrapped up in things yourself. It would be so much simpler to just forget about the whole mess, wouldn't it?

                MR. STOCKTON

    Forget about it? How can I forget about something so strange? Don't you wonder where it came from? Or why I can't shear the thing?

                MRS. STOCKTON

    I'll admit I was interested for a while but really the situation is the same as the day it wandered into the herd and I don't see why it matters that its wool can't be cut anyhow. I really do prefer how we used to sit here on the porch and talk to each other.

                MR. STOCKTON

    You would rather we sit her and prattle about the weather or the fancy hats you saw at church? Did I tell you that the wool doesn’t burn? I know because I tried. I held a lighter to it until my fingers began to burn and when that didn’t work, I soaked an old rag in kerosene and tied it to the wool. When I lit it, the rag went up in an instant, but the wool wasn’t even singed. You should’ve seen the sucker yell and kick across the room trying to get away. Much more of a spectacle than an old lady with a hat two sizes too large parading the front pew.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Well, I think it's far more important to pay attention to the things that matter more than the things that are a spectacle.

                MR. STOCKTON

    But it's more than just a spectacle. There are things going on that don't make sense. That sheep just isn't right. It does things that shouldn't be possible. Like it doesn't get dirty like its supposed to. I've seen it roll around and play with the rest of the herd and it always stays white and clean. The dirt just rolls off it.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    So it's a clean sheep, what's so wrong about that?

                MR. STOCKTON

    Dirt is supposed to make things dirty that's the way things work. Can't you see how it's making things unnatural? How it's messing with the normal way of things? There's a way things ought to be and that sheep, isn't it. Maybe I should put a bullet in his head see if that fixes things.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Come now, that sheep is doing nothing wrong. You can't kill the poor thing, it wouldn't be right.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Its whole existence is wrong. Sheep are supposed to be sheared, that's the way things are done. There's no point in debating about it.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    But that sheep isn't hurting you. I've seen it, and it just acts like any other animal. It's a peaceful little thing. In fact, the herd has already accepted it and I think you should too. 

                MR. STOCKTON

    You think I should just ignore it because I don't understand it.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    I think it doesn't matter. You spend every day crouching in the barn staring at the sheep like a lunatic and it's all you ever want to talk about. You really should take some time for other more important things. I don't understand why this is so fascinating to you.

For a moment neither speaks. 

                MR. STOCKTON

    I don't think you understand, that sheep is breaking all of the rules. If a sheep can grow wool that can't be cut what does that say about everything I thought knew. Perhaps tomorrow our cows will produce vinegar instead of milk, or maybe chickens will start laying bricks.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    And what of it. If the chickens start laying bricks I say we sell bricks instead of eggs, there would be nothing we could do to change it anyways.

                MR. STOCKTON

    But it's not right, things are the way they are for a reason. There's no changing that.

Mrs. Stockton pauses considering whether or not to point out the irony of what was said than reconsiders.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    What about the way things were? All those years we would sit on this porch together and talk. Certainly, that has changed.

                MR. STOCKTON

    What do you mean? we're on the porch talking right now. Just like we were yesterday and the day before that. We talk all the time.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Having the same conversation over and over isn't talking. This isn't talking.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Incrediously and defensive)

    How is this not talking? You hear me right? I know you can see my lips moving. How on earth isn't this talking?

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Because we're not saying anything! It's all just empty words or shallow observations. I mean how many times am I supposed to listen to you blather on about that sheep. 

                MR. STOCKTON

    Dear, this isn't like you maybe you should go inside and lay down. I think-

Mrs. Stockton stands up in a huff and interrupts him.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    How would you know what I'm like? I can't remember the last time you tried to get to know me. 

                MR. STOCKTON

    Get to know you? We've been married for over thirty years and-

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Thirty-two, we've been married for thirty-two years.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Fine thirty-two years; how much more can I get to know you? There are only so many conversations two people can have.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    It's about the fact that you don't even bother trying to get to know me now. You don't ask how my day was or if anything interesting happened to me. I think you care more about that sheep than you care about me.

There's an awkward pause. Mr. Stockton opens his mouth to reply but no words are spoken. Then Mrs. Stockton stands, crosses to, and opens the door then goes inside.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Excuse me.

Mr. Stockton stands and paces the porch clearly agitated. A moment later the door opens and Mrs. Stockton comes through it holding a suitcase.

                MR. STOCKTON

    What's that?

                MRS. STOCKTON

    It's my bag, I'm going to my sisters.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Pensively)

    oh, has something happened?

                MRS. STOCKTON

        (Taken Aback)

    Has something happened? yes something has happened. I'm unhappy and I'm leaving.

She begins to step off the porch when Mr. Stockton grabs her arm (Maybe slightly to firmly) to stop her.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Wait you can't leave, I don't understand. You're unhappy? How is that possible?

                MRS. STOCKTON

    You don't pay attention to me, your dismissive, and honestly, sometimes I wonder if you care about me at all.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Of course, I care. I work every day don't I. How else do you think food ends up in the fridge and the pantry. And the house, how do you think the mortgage is paid. It's paid for by my hard work so that you can live comfortably. I take care of you, the way a man is supposed to take care of his wife.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    That's the problem right there. You don't care about me. You just care about having a wife.

                MR. STOCKTON

    But you are my wife. 

Mrs. Stockton scoffs audibly and moves to leave again.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Wait you can't go.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Why? Why can't I go?

                MR. STOCKTON

    Because your my wife and I love you. I mean I've done everything a husband is supposed to do. I earn money and put food on the table. I provided a house for you and I never stepped outside our marriage. I followed all the rules and did everything I was supposed to. I held up my end of the deal. You can't just leave me. It's not right, its not what a good wife would do.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    Well, it's what I'm doing.

She kicks the broken sheers out of the way and then steps off the porch and begins moving away. Before leaving the scene however she turns around and speaks to Mr. Stockton who is still on the porch.

                MRS. STOCKTON

    You know you don't get to decide the rules of marriage. You don't get to say this is what one should do and how the other should behave. And while I think your right that a good woman stays by her man your not my man anymore. I hardly ever see you anymore you spend so much time obsessing over that ridiculous animal. And when I do see you your so preoccupied we can't even have a proper conversation. You've changed and maybe I've changed too. Its time to accept that this is over. I'm leaving and there's nothing that you can do about it.

She walks off steadily.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (sobbing to himself)

    Wait don't go. I did everything. Your my goddamn wife you can't just leave. You can't do this to me. I'm gonna find a way to fix this you'll see. Everythings gonna go back to the way it was. I promise I'll make everything right.

He storms inside and then returns after a moment holding a rifle. He walks off stage in the opposite direction as Mrs. Stockton. A moment later a loud BANG is heard.

INT. STOCKTON FARMHOUSE, KITCHEN

The interior of the farmhouse is a small but tidy kitchen. Mr. Stockton sits in the center of the room at a small round table. There are liquor and a glass on the table. Behind him, draped on the chair he's sitting on, is a fleece. He pours and takes a drink. Then he pulls the fleece from out behind him and lays it on the table. He regards it with a sense of pleasure.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Slightly drunk)

    Not so special now are ya? no, you're just like all the others now aren't you? All it took was a bullet and I made you normal.

He paws at the fleece on the table lovingly.

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Singsong)

    I made you normal

He laughs to himself loudly and jarringly

                MR. STOCKTON

        (Louder than last time)

    I made you normal!  

He pours the remnants of the bottle onto the fleece and then pushes it off the table onto the floor.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Why would you leave me? I did everything right, you know. Did everything I could to keep the order, to keep things the way they're supposed to be. How could she do this to me after everything I did for her? I mean I did everything I could didn't I?

He pauses for a moment as if expecting someone to answer his question. He eyes the fleece.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Nobody but the two of us here now. Just you and me now.

He sighs slowly gets up from the table. He walks over to the fleece and considers it a second. Then he lies down pulling the fleece over himself.

                MR. STOCKTON

    Just me and you.

            FADE OUT: