The ram rebellioneric Flint with Virginia DeMarce

The Brillo LegendsBad, Baaaad, BrilloPaula GoodlettJ.D. came in the door laughing like a maniac. Flo looked up to see him waving a rough-looking piece of paper at her."What's so funny?" Flo asked. "I haven't heard you laugh like that in a while."J.D., gasping for breath, handed Flo the sheet of paper. "Remember when you saw Cora Ennis the other day? It seems someone overheard you telling her about that ram and his exploits. This was making the rounds all over town today. You and that miserable excuse for a ram are famous!"Flo looked down at the sheet, saw the drawing and read the first few lines. The further she read, the more she blushed. "Oh, no, please, no. Tell me this is a joke, J.D. Please let this be a joke."The top of the sheet had two drawings. One was of a ram with beautiful wool. The other, well, the wool wasn't beautiful. The title was: B-A-A-A-D, B-A-A-A-D BRILLO* * *Flo was pretty sure that no ram in history came with that kind of equipment. Just who does this fur-ball think he is? Brillo thought. Those wimmen are mine. I'm the one who's been here. I'm the one they've all been making up to. I'm the one they cuddled up to after the shearing. I'm the one who put up with all the hormone surges. What makes him think he can strut in here and take over?Of all the people in the Richards-Sprug-Schmidt-Utt household, only one was unhappy. In fact, I'm not just unhappy, thought Brillo. I'm well and truly, to the bottom of my heart, PISSED OFF!!!"Umm . . . Johan, do think he's going to hurt himself doing that?" Flo asked. "Throwing himself against the fence that way looks like it would hurt pretty badly. He actually shook the corner post that time.""He vill be okay, Flo. He is yust mad. He can smell zat ze breeding season has begun. Ve do not need him, now. I vill zee if zomeone vants him. If not, I vill check vit ze Grange, to zee if zey need him.""Gee, Johan, I kind of hate to get rid of him. He was our only hope for a while. I know it's silly to be sentimental, but he's really not awful . . ." Flo's voice trailed away, as she and Johan turned to walk away. Wool, wool, that's all they think about. What about stamina? What about vigor? That hair-ball over there would fall over dead before he could walk half the distance I could. There's nothing to him but hair. Brillo knew what was coming. He was being deposed.First they'll see if anyone wants me, then they'll send me away. Worst of all they might turn me into . . . NOOOOOOO! I'd rather go to the butcher! Brillo continued to ram the weak spot of the fence. Hours later, in the dark of night, the fence finally gave up. Brillo stomped away.I'm getting' some before I leave. He was determined. I'm gettin' some and then I'm headin' north. North to where a sheep can live free. North where they can't take my wool, my wimmen or my lambs.Spying one of the furry ewes away from the flock, Brillo bounded over and satisfied himself."Thank you, ma'am," he baaed as he sauntered away. "Very nice of you, I'm sure."As he stalked farther away, Brillo began to get sleepy. Blearily, he looked at the sky. "Which way is north?" he wondered. When Brillo Met AnnieStanley LeghornBrillo jerked to full wakefulness. Something was making the ewes nervous and they were bleating and moving away from the back of the fence. Brillo shouldered his way through the shifting crowd and looked, listened and smelled. It was the smell that told him what had upset his ladies.Stupid yapper. If he's in here I'll smack him into the back of the house, I swear I will! No one bothers my wimmen but ME!The canine was not in the pen, but traveling past it on the way towards the woods with something in its jaws. Flo had described Brillo's many faults: Destructive, greedy, Destructive, pigheaded, Destructive, sneaky, Destructive, arrogant, and did she mention Destructive? The one thing she had, grudgingly, praised him for was being a good family ram. And having the tremendous personal courage that job required.Brillo slammed into a part of the fence he had tested earlier for just such an event. The section pulled up out of the ground and Brillo squirmed under, leaving a bunch of scruffy fur behind. Da lady don't like my fleece anywho, he thought as he swiftly set off in pursuit. As he got closer, he was surprised to hear a soft feminine voice berating the canine: "Put me DOWN! I do not taste good and you are ripping me! Stop this before you get in more trouble!" But he wasn' so surprised that he failed to lower his head and go to ram speed as he got close. "Ooh, now you are going to get it!" exclaimed the voice. The small canine, little more than a cub, looked over his shoulder and yelped in fright. The warning was enough for him to get mostly out of the way. But mostly is not the same as all, and Brillo shifted his attack as much as possible to make it as much as possible. The result was a glancing blow to the tail, which sent the pup flying. When the pup landed, he leapt to his feet with a yip of pain and saw Brillo turning around for another pass.His mother had told him that discretion was the better part of valor in a failed attack such as this one, and he became rapidly discreet, all the way to the woods, yipping in pain each time his hind legs hit the ground. Brillo slowed as he saw his victim in full flight, and stopped near where he had hit the pup. "Snort! Don' come back, ya stoopid yapper!"Brillo was about to head back to the pen when the voice said, "Thank you ever so much for saving me, Brillo!" Brillo quickly looked around but could see no one. "Who dat?""My name is Annie, I belong to Johan's daughters." Brillo peered down at the ground. There indeed was the doll he had seen before, when the daughters had been out playing near the pen. "How come you never talked afore?" asked Brillo."It is part of the Guild rules, we have to listen to people and children, but we can talk to animals," replied Annie, who was mournfully holding her left leg in her arms."Stoopid hooman rules, humph! Well, I gotta get back te my wimmen. They don' feel safe witout me.""Oh, please, do not leave me out here in the field! Please, please take me ba

k to the house where I can be found!""Why? I gots family te watch and take care of.""I know, but it will only take a few minutes for you to run me over there. You run so fast, I bet you could go it in less time than it takes to squirm back into the pen. Besides, a good deed is its own reward."Brillo puffed himself up with pride. "Yah, I will take ya." Leaning over, he grabbed the doll in his mouth, growling about the horrible doggy aftertaste. Quickly he went to the back porch and tossed the doll onto it."Satisfied?" Getting no answer, Brillo repeated, "I said sat—"Brillo stood like a sheep in a headlight. Only in this case it was a flood light. He heard the door open."You monster! Johan, tomorrow we have mutton! This is the last straw! Ripping up your daughter's doll!"Johan and J.D. were scanning the woods edge. Johan bent over to pick up the doll and his nose flared open. Brillo had an easily identified scent. As did dog. "Where is the wolf now, eh?"Flo's husband was scanning the woods edge with the sight on his rifle. Brillo looked towards the woods and snorted. He pawed the ground, gave a tossing motion with his horns and sneered."J.D., did you see that?" quavered Flo."See what, honey?" He lowered the rifle, and said, "Johan, I don't see anything now, it must have run off.""But, but, but . . ." Flo stuttered to a halt."You all right?" asked her husband."I need to get back to bed. Johan, take that creature back to the pen and see that he stays there!""All right. Come on Brillo, back to your post." Fortunately, Flo could not see the grin on Johan's face as he firmly guided Brillo home.A good deed is it own reward, huh? snorted Brillo . . .Local Woman Goes BuggyPaula Goodlett"Flo, have you seen this one?" J.D. asked, while hiding a smirk. "It seems you've made the news again."Flo, irritated beyond endurance, read the broadsheet J.D. handed her. The title, under the usual graphic drawing, read: LOCAL WOMAN GOES BUGGY An interested observer reports that Mrs. J.D. Richards appears to be having a nervous breakdown. As evidence, we present the following letter, purported to have come from the desk of the person in question: Dear Mary,

Brillo is NOT my silly ram. Brillo is my business partner Johan's silly ram. And he's not silly. If he was silly he wouldn't be a problem. The problem is he's SMART, and he's out to get me. Everybody seems to think he's just a poor misunderstood dumb animal, but they are WRONG. He is the devil in sheep's clothing. He takes every opportunity to get at me, and when I try to point out his behavior, he stands there all innocence. But I know what he's really like. If he wasn't such a hero to everyone else he'd have been dinner ages ago.

With thanks,

Flo Richards Flo finished reading, stunned. "J.D., I've never said that to anyone. I didn't write this letter!" she wailed. "What am I going to do? The whole town is going to believe this, just like they believe that stupid sheep killed a wolf.""There, there, dear," J.D. answered. "No one is really going to believe that you're crazy. I've lived with you since 1967. I'd know if you were really crazy.""I'm not crazy. Really, I'm not." Flo began to babble. "I don't think he's out to get me. He's just a sheep. I know a sheep doesn't have that much brains. He couldn't have planned this. Someone is out to get me, I just know it. Who is it? Why are they doing this?"J.D. put his arms around Flo and patted her back. "I know, darling, I know." No, No, Brillo!Virginia DeMarce"We could do it, Mrs. Nelson," Trissie Harris coaxed. "I know that you have the booklets for No, No, Nanette!""We are not," Iona Nelson said firmly to the class, "going to enliven the organizational meeting for the League of Women Voters with a Brillo skit. We are going to sing our entry for the national anthem contest, and that is all we are going to do." She was using her best schoolteacher voice."But," Trissie protested, "some of them are sooo cute. Grandpa made up the one about Charlie."Against her better judgment, Iona found herself asking, "What one about Charlie?""Charlie was in the original." Trissie's grin made it plain that she was going to cherish this day for a long time. She rarely got to solo in the middle school chorus: 
"Get Wild Root Cream Oil, Brillo!
It's full of lanolin.
Get Wild Root Cream Oil, Brillo!
It keeps your wool in trim.
Get Wild Root Cream Oil, Brillo!
Don't chase the ewes away.
Get Wild Root Cream Oil, Brillo!
It'll really make your day.
But wait just a minute, Brillo!
Wild Root just isn't in.
You don't need Wild Root, Brillo!
Your fleece has lanolin." Trissie opened her mouth for another line; then looked around the classroom, said, "I don't think I'd better sing the last verse right now," and sat down with a plop. The rest of the class laughed loud enough that Iona suspected that they had already heard it.She was saved from having to comment by the bell. "Okay," Flo said to J.D. "I can believe that Dex Harris made a bawdy ballad to the tune of the Wild Root Cream Oil commercial. I really can. I can even believe that he taught it to Trissie. But no way do I believe that he wrote the rest of those. I know the guy, J.D. I've known him all my life. There's no way that he spends his spare time reading collections of American short stories.""Look, Flo," J.D. said. "This could be like the story about the monster. The one that every time the guy chopped one head off, it grew a couple more. If people get the idea that the stories really upset you, they're likely to do more of them. Just to get your goat. Or your sheep."He fled in mock terror. It was definitely mock, because he knew perfectly well that no matter how upset Flo was, she wasn't upset enough to dump a cup of rare and valuable hot coffee over his head.Flo stared glumly at the table. No, there was no reason why any of the Harrises would be out to get her. Dex had just written that as a joke. But, "Local Woman Goes Buggy?"That one had meanness to it.The kind of meanness that only kids had. On the back of an old envelope, not bothering to sharpen the pencil first, she started making a list of everyone in Grantville who had gone to grade school and high school with her. Annotated. "I don't think that you're really stopping to think about it, Mom," Amy said impatiently. "You were right the first time, when you said that the `Buggy' one isn't like the others. Even if you figure that one out, the person who wrote it won't be the person who wrote the rest of them.""Get to the point," Kerry said."She will," commented Missy as she buttered another piece of rye bread. "It's just that by the time she gets there, the rest of us will have written the Great American Novel, built our own greenhouses to grow citrus fruit in our back yards, opened up home businesses, and sent off expeditions to start colonies back in America. Just thinking about all the stuff people think we ought to do since we came back in time makes me tired before I've even gotten breakfast."Flo wondered when her daughters, who were rapidly approaching thirty, were going to start talking to one another like they weren't still squabbling about who got the bathroom first. I love them, I really do, she assured herself. I love them all. I love the grandkids that I have. I love, she paused and looked at Kerry, the grandkid that it looks like I'm going to have any minute now. I'll love the grandkids I'm almost certain to have next year or the year after, if somebody doesn't reinvent the pill.Kerry's David was in school, which reduced the noise level somewhat. Amy's David and Missy's Mike were still small enough to corral in a playpen, but since it was the same playpen and Mike had recently bopped David on the head with a toy Brillo, both were squalling in the background. Amy's Kayla and Missy's Caitlin had both been in moods all morning that would have driven the author of "sugar and spice" to take it all back. Little girls appeared to be made of sour pickles and tabasco sauce.But Amy was not distracted. "Look, except for the Buggy story, they're all Peter Rabbit stories.""Amy," said Missy. "Get to the point."Amy, sad to say, stuck her tongue out at her sisters.Flo mentally gave herself one more black mark for Abysmal Failures in Maternal Training."The Peter Rabbit stories aren't about the guy who had the garden, Whatzisname. Mr. Whatzisname is just there in the background, for scenery. That's where Mom is in all the others. They're about the animal. So he's a stupid ram, so what? She's only there in the background trying to keep him in his pen, or away from the ewes, or not appreciating how brave and clever he is, or something. The stories are about him. Some of them don't even mention Mom at all. Except the `Buggy' one. That's about Mom."Kerry thought a minute. "You're right. I hate to say it, but you're right. And some of them do have to be guys. It must have been a guy who wrote `Bad, Baaad, Brillo!' But `Buggy' was written by a female. It's just nasty."Amy wasn't finished. She just ignored Kerry and kept going. "So live with the rest of them. You think that Beatrix Potter didn't laugh all the way to the bank. He isn't what you wanted out of this sheep project, but he's what you got. So make the most of it, Mom."Flo sighed. "All right. But I still want to find out who wrote that one.""Who are your candidates?" Kerry asked."I thought there had to be two things. First, she didn't like me. I had a bunch in that column. Second, she has to be here—not off in the oil field with her husband like Lelah Johnson—Kidwell that was. And willing to do it—that lets out Charmaine Dwyer—Elkins that was—because she's actually turned into a nice person, much as I sort of hate to say so.""Someday," Missy said, glancing at the envelope Flo had brought along to the Richards girls' brunch and kaffeeklatsch, "I think that I really want to hear the stories about what went on in Grantville when you were in grade school and high school, that you ended up with so many people in your `enemies' column."Flo glared at her."The candidates left are Stella Pilcher—Burroughs that was. But she doesn't have the gumption. She just whines."Flo realized that her daughters were looking shocked. "Well, she does. Always did. I didn't like her. Still don't. And it showed, back then. Now I just avoid her."Flo looked down into her cup of coffee before she went on. "And Idalee Jackson—Mitchell that was. And I think that it's Idalee. She's the scheduler for the Grange meetings. Most people would have had to show up at the paper and leave that thing and someone would have remembered it. She drops stuff off all the time, meeting notices and the like. If it was just on the bottom of things she left in their `incoming' box, on a different kind of paper, nobody would ever know.""Mom," Kerry asked rather cautiously, "what did you do to her?""Before the final game at the state basketball tournament, I carefully glued lots of little pieces of straw inside her flippy cheerleader skirt. Just with little bitty dots of library paste. First, they pricked her bottom and itched her. Then, when the cheerleaders really got going, they started to fall out, right in front of the crowd.""Mom!" The horror was unanimous."That was junior year. I had caught her trying to put the moves on your father. I had him staked out, already. And, face it, as a husband, he's been a lot better deal than Butler Jackson. But she didn't have to marry him.""Mom!""Well, she didn't. Everybody assumed that she did when they got married, because they couldn't imagine why else she took him, but it was twenty-two months before Wade was born. I guess she was just starting to be afraid of being an old maid." Flo paused. "I'm not saying for sure that she did it, and I'm not going out and accuse her. But just sort of pinning it down makes me feel better inside. Idalee does hold grudges—and she's smart enough."Flo came to a decision. "As for the rest of them—Amy's right. I think I'll just laugh along with everybody else." "We can do it," Trissie insisted. "We only need to snitch one copy of the booklet. So Michelle can play."Ashley Walsh and Liz Russo looked at her doubtfully."The only other person who'll need to know at all will be Michelle. Grownups think that kids can't do anything without someone to tell them how. We can do this ourselves. Honestly we can." "And with Michelle Matowski at the piano." Mrs. Nelson finished the introduction and moved to the director's post.The girls' chorus finished their presentation to polite applause from the League of Women Voters. (Iona had been quite right in saying that the tune was almost impossible to sing, even if it was very popular.) The girls filed out of the front of the room.Except . . . three of them didn't. Liz Russo slipped off in the other direction and hid behind the piano. Trissie Harris and Ashley Walsh stayed on the little stage, reached into their pockets, and each brought out a pair of fuzzy white earmuffs.Flo's heart sank.At the piano, Michelle segued into, "Tea for Two." Brillo and the ewe started to sing, "A ram for me, an ewe for you." Between every verse, Michelle switched tunes and from behind the piano came Liz Russo's high soprano admonishing, "No, No, Brillo!"Flo laughed. Brillo and the Blue ProblemRick BoatrightBrillo looked up and noticed that the child had left the gate unlatched. YES! he thought. This time I'll get my wimmen, and I'll head north, where a sheep can be a sheep.This time for sure.Brillo began butting the gate, and quickly realized that it was more useful to butt it at the latch end. Heading for the ewes' field, he looked over to the house where no one was yet up.You know, he thought, every time I get myself some of my wimmen, I fall asleep before I can get out of here.This sudden rush of realization set Brillo on a new mental path. How to stay awake? What was the magic of waking? Then, suddenly, he realized. It was the Blue Cup. Each morning, Flo came out and drank from the Blue Cup and said that she was waking up.That was the magic. It was the blueness of it. He looked around. Blue . . . Blue . . . Blue. It was certain that no one was going to bring him a blue cup. No, that was reserved only for the yoomans.Blue. Suddenly, his eyes lit on the flowerbed. Pansies were blue. Weren't they?Anyway, Brillo had figured it out. The secret to staying awake, and getting away to the north was finding the magic blue substance. Brillo was determined to eat every blue thing he could find. No matter how many trys it took, he would go north with his wimmen.CindabrilloPaula Goodlett"Got another one, Flo." J.D. grinned."Oh, good," Flo answered. "I thought it might be about time for a new one."Unknown to Flo, who was interested in the latest Brillo broadsheet, J.D.'s face fell. Her new attitude had him confused. She'd griped and groaned about those broadsheets for weeks. It had been fun to watch. Where was the fun in seeing her not react?Oblivious to J.D.'s disappointment, Flo continued to read: CINDABRILLO Brillo walked around the enclosure, muttering to himself. "Work, work, work. It's all I ever do. The other rams, they get all the bennies. Me, I just work and work and work. Can't have any wimmen without a fight. 'Course, I like to fight. Can't have any blue. The Flo lady is still mad at me about those jeans. How was I supposed to know? No rest for me. No, no goodies for Brillo.""So, would you like to change all that, my fine ram?" a voice asked from the darkness."Whozat?" Brillo exclaimed.A shining blue light appeared before his eyes. A little too shining, if the truth be told. Brillo, a bit dazzled, shook his head and blinked."Ya wanna tone it down a bit?" he asked."Umm, sorry, my friend. The lights are on a separate control, hang on a min . . . there, is that better?" the voice asked.Blinking a bit, Brillo looked toward where the light had appeared. It was much less bright now."Yuh. Better. Who're you?" he asked."Why, Brillo, I'm the fairy god ewe. Haven't you heard about me?" the voice answered.Peering at the light, Brillo was able to discern a rather shapely form inside it. Quite a shapely form, if you were a ram. Things got a bit slobbery for a moment, until Brillo managed to regain his dignity."Fairy god ewe? Never heard of you. And, I'm sort of busy right now. Wimmen to guard, lambs to protect, that sort of thing. Whaddaya want?""I want to help you, Brillo. It's what fairy god ewes are for, after all. I can give you a beautiful fleece. I can make you king of the rams. The real question is, what do you want?""Wanna be ram. Wanna have wimmen. Wanna have lambs. Wanna eat. S'what sheep do, y'know. Got all that.""Brillo, listen carefully. I can make you one of the pretty rams. I can make the Flo lady like you. You can have all the wim . . . women you want. You can be king of the rams, with my help.""Don' wanna be pretty. Useless, they are. Can't fight, can't protect. Run like rabbits. Don' wanna be king. Too much paperwork. Why do?""Do it because you'd have the respect of the yoo . . . humans, Brillo. Do it because you're the best ram ever. I can make it happen, with a wave of my wand," the shape answered. "Just ask, and I'll do it. Tomorrow morning, the Flo lady will come out and be happy to see you.""Flo lady already happy to see me. Me here, wimmen here, lambs here. She don't like to say, but she happy. Only want one thing.""Well, I really want to give such a wonderful ram something," the shape answered. "What do you want most of all?""Don wanna say out loud. Come closer.""I don't think so, buddy. I don't think I trust you that much. I said I'm a fairy god ewe, not that I'm stupid.""Aw, come on. Won' do nuttin'. Just don' wanna say out loud," Brillo said, with his best imitation of injured feelings. Here, fishy, fishy, he thought."Well, okay. I'll come closer and you can whisper in my ear," the shapely ewe answered as she moved closer. "Just don't get any ideas, buster."Brillo waited patiently as the nervous ewe moved within his range. Finally, after a lot of skittering around, there she was. Brillo quickly reached over and grabbed the glowing wand, crunched it up, and swallowed."Oh, no!" screamed the fairy god ewe, as her magic fell away. "You've turned me into a real ewe, you lousy . . ."Brillo turned his now faintly glowing eyes upon her and grinned evilly. Very evilly. "Yup. Now, about that wish, honeybunch . . .""It's got to be an uptimer. Got to be. It's the `Here, Fishy, Fishy' line. Remember, I bought you one of those tee-shirts once. The one with the trout on it. And the one that said "I fish because the voices in my head tell me to."J.D. grinned. "You did. Didn't they both go in the pile of stuff we gave away for the refugees?""Darn, yes, they did," Flo answered. "I guess those jokes wouldn't take much explaining, would they? Wonder if I'll ever know who's doing these?""Doesn't really matter, does it?" J.D. asked."Oh, I suppose not. It's just unsatisfied curiosity, I guess. I'd just like to know."