Aaron felt grass cradling his body, the morning dew wet against the tanned skin of his forearms. His vision was red as the sun shone through his closed eyelids. The scent of animal waste mingled with the aroma of a fresh spring morning, freer from pollution than any he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, pleasant. Aaron’s nose wrinkled as he let out a groan. “Fuck I have got to get better about being specific with that ass hole. If you have the magical talent to shape reality itself, then can you at least make sure to put the person’s face more than six inches from the nearest turd?!” Aaron stood, cursing his continued existence he took stock of his surroundings.
Aaron stood in the center of what he estimated to be a one-acre paddock. Before the Dealer mucked about in his head, he never could have done that. The knee-high sea of the hay field was periodically broken by the appearance of thirty-two sheep with a healthy, if light, wool coat. Unfortunately for Aaron’s continued mental stability, not one of the sheep had white wool. Nor did any have brown, black, or any other, standard color of wool. Instead, the sheep grew neon colored wool like some pixie kid’s fever dream. Bright oranges intermingled with reds and blues creating a terrible clash of colors to the eye. “Fuck this and fuck you Dealer. Why neon for the love of the gods?” For that’s what the Dealer and his kind were to Aaron, gods. “I really need to be more specific.”
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In the far corner of the field Aaron could see what looked like the silhouette of a wooden sign, like he’d seen in old western movies. With nothing better to go on, he began the process of wading through the lush forage. By the time Aaron had crossed the paddock and reached the sign, his grey denim pants had become soaked by the wet grass. Fortunately, his pants covered the openings of the leather work boots he had been planning to wear for the day and the boots were watertight. “At least I won’t have to deal with wet socks for now.”
The sign faced what looked like a well-traveled dirt road. When Aaron looked at the sign a text window appeared in front of him.
Unnamed Ranch
Would you like to lay claim to, Unnamed Ranch?
Yes or No
“Well, I already paid for the damn thing, didn’t I?” Aaron selected yes and a new window appeared, replacing the last.
Would you like to rename, Unnamed Ranch?
Yes or No
Aaron selected yes and renamed the property Rams Head Ranch, neon sheep or otherwise it would at least have an awesome name. The text window faded, and the sign now showed the updated name and listed him as the owner through the simple designation, Owner: Aaron