Eve kicked her legs as she dangled over one of the stunt bars, her cheek squished boredly against the cold metal railing.
Every day was a bore now that her own tent was repurposed and she was forced to man the dumb gift shop. As if retail couldn’t get any worse. She was created to entertain the masses with whimsy and laughter — not stand at the front and look pretty while dealing with snotty children fighting over a toy.
“It was one mistake, Jester,”
The sheep groaned, nudging him with her hoof,
“Honest mistake! I was doin’ it for the greater good too! Those schmucks were harassin’ one of our family — what, did you want me to just look away and pretend everythang was a-okay? NO, I had to OBVIOUSLY make sure they never try somethang like that ever again! And now two of ‘em won’t — yanno, ‘cause one got squashed like a pancake and the other went up in flames.”
No remorse. She’s even smiling fondly at the memory.
“And with one quick modify memory, the last guest on stage got away scot free and unscathed and didn’t have to call the authorities on us and force us to move again! Win win!
…What’s family mean to you anyway? I think we have two different definitions of safety precautions. Let’s start with that.”