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Burnt out folklorist hides from the world and her antagonist who plumber the outside of her home. Upon receiving a random invite to a cabin from a fan. Mel escapes the drudgery of her life only to find another annoying neighbor who turns out to be fey. Can she survive the encounter or can Mel give him an offer he can't refuse?
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This epilogue is brought to you by
…Previously…
Once she heard the buzzing of shears, Angela BAAAH-ed in appreciation. The wool had been making her very hot, and getting it shorn down would be a great relief. Then she could finally graze in comfort. But as she turned her head, she noticed something strange. A strand of brown hair fell across her coat. Then another. She let out another BAAAH, this time in confusion. It didn't really sound much different than the appreciative BAAAH from before. She strained to look back at her handler's handiwork. In place of shorn wool, she was surprised to see purple fabric. Striped nylon. Leather boots. Finally, she looked at the face of the person holding the shears. A wave of recognition hit her.
This woman, this human woman! It couldn't be, but it was her...
"M-maaaahhh?"
"Hold still, Angela. These magic shears have to be used just right."
"H-o-o-oowww did you know it was me?"
"A mother knows."
Clumps of wool pooled around her gloved hands, complete with fingers. Tangles of wool on her head were slowly turning back to hair.
"Maa--" Angela cleared her throat. "Mom, what's going on? I... I was a sheep, wa-a-a-asn't I? How am I fully clothed under all that--"
"Look, it's magic, Angela."
"That's it? It doesn't make sense! I'm happy to be human, but--"
"Angela honey, I'm sorry if my answers aren't expository enough, but I'm trying to concentrate. If I shear off too much, you could end up some bald, naked, half-sheep thing. Do you want that?"
"N-no..."
"Then just sit still and let me use the magical MacGuffin."
Angela waited patiently on hands and knees as the shears continued their work. But too many questions still bounced around her once-again-human mind. In no particular order of significance, one of them forced its way to the surface.
"Did you turn yourself into a farmer with some other spell?"
"Angela, please. I have yard-work clothes. This is what I wore when I seeded the lawn that you devoured."
"Oh."
"Hey, when this is done, I can make you a sweater out of all this if you want."
"That's weird, Mom."
…Previously…
Once she heard the buzzing of shears, Angela BAAAH-ed in appreciation. The wool had been making her very hot, and getting it shorn down would be a great relief. Then she could finally graze in comfort. But as she turned her head, she noticed something strange. A strand of brown hair fell across her coat. Then another. She let out another BAAAH, this time in confusion. It didn't really sound much different than the appreciative BAAAH from before. She strained to look back at her handler's handiwork. In place of shorn wool, she was surprised to see purple fabric. Striped nylon. Leather boots. Finally, she looked at the face of the person holding the shears. A wave of recognition hit her.
This woman, this human woman! It couldn't be, but it was her...
"M-maaaahhh?"
"Hold still, Angela. These magic shears have to be used just right."
"H-o-o-oowww did you know it was me?"
"A mother knows."
Clumps of wool pooled around her gloved hands, complete with fingers. Tangles of wool on her head were slowly turning back to hair.
"Maa--" Angela cleared her throat. "Mom, what's going on? I... I was a sheep, wa-a-a-asn't I? How am I fully clothed under all that--"
"Look, it's magic, Angela."
"That's it? It doesn't make sense! I'm happy to be human, but--"
"Angela honey, I'm sorry if my answers aren't expository enough, but I'm trying to concentrate. If I shear off too much, you could end up some bald, naked, half-sheep thing. Do you want that?"
"N-no..."
"Then just sit still and let me use the magical MacGuffin."
Angela waited patiently on hands and knees as the shears continued their work. But too many questions still bounced around her once-again-human mind. In no particular order of significance, one of them forced its way to the surface.
"Did you turn yourself into a farmer with some other spell?"
"Angela, please. I have yard-work clothes. This is what I wore when I seeded the lawn that you devoured."
"Oh."
"Hey, when this is done, I can make you a sweater out of all this if you want."
"That's weird, Mom."
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If the mom reseeded the lawn how long has she been a sheep?