Unexpected Turns: Bang!

exhausted.

"Rotten flu!" he murmured, "I wish I could get a-hold of this virus and wring its rotten little neck!"

He put the second bucket in place and started tugging. "Funny?" he thought, "Wonder why the cows don't catch this thing? Is it scared of cows? The chickens aren't sick either. Nor the pigs. Its not fair if you ask me."

He milked away for a while, puzzling over the fickleness of life, and then Blackie was finished. She backed out and walked away to the field without a backward glance.

Angus stayed where he was for a while, just resting on the stool. He stared at the two heavy buckets of milk blankly.

"Can't carry it to the house," he said, "Too heavy. I'll shove it in the shed for a while. Feed it to the pigs tomorrow."

He stood up and grasped one bucket handle in each hand, heaved, and staggered across to a door. Muttering to himself he put the buckets down and fumbled in his ragged old coat for some keys. This door was always locked. It had to be. There were chemicals and sprays for the farm in the shed, and the law said they had to be made secure. Angus wished there was no such law as he poked the key feebly into the lock and turned it.

The door squealed slowly open on rusty old hinges. Angus looked around for evidence of mice. He was forever filling up holes in the walls to keep them out. They chewed through the bags and made holes in the boxes. They spilled the powders and made the bottles leak.

Satisfied that there were no new holes, Angus placed the buckets in the centre of the floor and turned the light off. He shut the door and locked it again, rested, walked to the tractor, rested, climbed back into the seat, rested, and drove back to the house.

During the night, mice broke through yet again and scampered around the shelves. They darted about in the darkness, twitching their noses and listening. Six, seven, eight of them, exploring the shelves, nibbling and biting at the bags.

While Angus slept beside his wife, the mice chewed. They broke into the chemicals and caused them to spill. Some yellow powder floated down and settled like a skin on the milk. Some brown, oily stuff dripped off the edge of a shelf and dripped in the milk. One mouse, with a green dust on his whiskers, fell into the milk and scrambled out. Then the rooster crowed and all the mice scampered away. It was morning, and the farm was waking