# 2: Slumber
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Counting Sheep
By Colleen Chen
Jimmy was an accountant
and an insomniac. Every
night he lay in bed for
hours, counting sheep
jumping over a fence.
Sometimes he got to a
thousand or more before
he finally drifted off
into uneasy dreams of
ledgers that never added
up, and financial
statements full of
screaming red numbers.
Jimmy didn’t realize
that he’d been assigned
only five sheep’s astral
bodies by Morpheus, the
Dream God. Every time he
got to 100 that meant
each sheep had to jump
over the fence 20 times.
If he got to 1000, as he
often did, that meant
200 jumps. Morpheus
liked his sheep to get
adequate exercise, but
200 times a night was
far more than the
suggested daily regimen
for aerobic activity.
The sheep, whose idea of
a good night was two
jumps and a long graze
on the greener side of
the fence, got exhausted
and lost weight. In
their annual company
picnics for all the
dream sheep of the
world, they were
consistently voted
“Top 5 Ugliest Sheep”
and were laughed at by
all their plump, fluffy
colleagues.
One day they got so fed
up that they decided to
go on strike. When Jimmy
lay down and tried to
count, the sheep
gestured with their
heads to a list of
demands carved on the
nearest tree trunk.
“Half-hour popcorn
breaks every fifty
jumps,” Jimmy read.
“Thicker grass with over
50% of the blades over 6
inches in length, with
attractive ewes grazing
on both sides of the
fence…No dog dreams
allowed…What is this
ridiculousness? You’re
my dream sheep—you do
what I say! Now get back
to jumping!”
The sheep turned their
backs, presenting a
united front of static
and woolly behinds. The
black one shot an astral
dung-pellet straight
into Jimmy’s third eye,
from which he was
visualizing all of this.
“Hey!” yelled Jimmy,
rubbing his forehead. He
tried to imagine kicking
the sheep, whipping
them, throttling
them—but try as he
might, he could only
move in slow motion.
Finally he managed a
weak slap at the nearest
one’s head.
“Breach of contract!”
shrilled the black
sheep. He flipped out a
long scroll and pointed
at the tiny print on the
bottom. “Any abuse of
dream sheep entails said
sheep to quit without
notice. We’re through
being sheeple for you.”
Jimmy realized his error
too late. He fell to his
knees before the sheep.
“Oh please don’t quit,”
he begged. “I need you,
or my insomnia will keep
me up all night long.
I’ll do anything.”
The sheep made
non-sheeps’ eyes at
Jimmy. “Fine. But from
now on, if you want to
count on counting us,
you’ll have to improve
working conditions for
us. And first, we’re
going to have a
vacation.”
The sheep trotted off to
an amusement park, and
Jimmy had no choice but
to follow. The sheep
rode the ferris wheel,
played bumper cars, and
cleaned up on prizes
playing skeet-ball. Then
they piled into a taxi,
making Jimmy sit in the
trunk, and they went to
an all-you-can-eat
grazing animals’
restaurant where grasses
and legumes were laid
out buffet-style. After
gorging, they handed
Jimmy the bill.
By this time Jimmy was
so tired he almost
cried. He tried to open
his eyes and get up,
thinking to watch some
television and maybe
even take a sleeping
pill, but he couldn’t
even make his body move.
His lids felt so heavy
they kept falling shut,
and then the sheep would
be there again, taunting
him. “Please,
guys…please come back to
the fence and let me
count you.”
“We’re not done yet,”
said the nearest sheep.
“Actually, I’m feeling a
little sleepy too. Maybe
we’ll take a nap first,
and then we’ll see about
that fence.”
The sheep all went outside the restaurant and sat in the grassy yard.
“One…two…three…” the
sheep started counting.
Jimmy couldn’t believe
his eyes. Five
accountants were lined
up behind a fence and
were all attempting to
jump over it. The first
few cleared the fence,
but then one tripped
over it. After that, the
rest of the accountants
began to fall over or
run into the fence. One
of them tried to crawl
through the slats, and
he got stuck.
The sheep slapped their
knees and rolled all
over the grass, bleating
with laughter.
Jimmy couldn’t help
it—it actually was kind
of funny. He chuckled
first, and then he
laughed, and then he
dropped to the grass and
rolled and bleated with
the best of the sheep.
He felt all his tension
draining out of his
body. He wasn’t even
aware when he fell into
a deep and restful
sleep.
After that night, Jimmy
slept as soon as his
head hit the pillow. His
insomnia was cured! He
realized how little fun
he’d been having in his
life, and he quit his
stressful job, retiring
on years’ worth of
scrimped pennies. As for
the sheep, they rejoiced
at their freedom…until
they realized that they
had no money to pay for
restaurants and
amusement parks. They
ate grass, got fat from
lack of exercise, and
were indistinguishable
from the other sheep at
the company picnic. But
after having tasted the
non-sheeple life, normal
sheep conditions no
longer held allure for
them. They were so
unhappy that they became
insomniac sheep, and the
accountants jumping the
fence had to work
overtime. The
accountants got so tired
of jumping that they
started discussing going
on strike…
Colleen Chen is a
suburban Californian
transplanted to a farm
in Brazil, where she
lives with her family
and an assortment of
furry and feathered
friends. She started
writing flash fiction
this year to ease the
torture of working on a
never-ending novel, and
she discovered how much
she enjoys sublimating
her newly strange rural
existence into story.
Her work has appeared in
Sliptongue, Jersey Devil
Press, Lightning Flash
Magazine and others.
Visit her online at
colleenchen.com.