EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND— Today, the Scottish people vote to decide whether they become an independent nation, or remain a member of the United Kingdom, and the questions haven’t stopped:
Will an independent Scotland adopt the euro? What comes of England’s nuclear facilities in the Scottish North? How will the debts be split? The list goes on. All pressing, yet none so much as the burning prod on all the kingdom’s lips:
What do we do with the sheep?
There currently reside over 4,000 rams and ewes grazing the Scotch-English Middle Marches, having done so for over 300 years, legally. And whilst much of the Scottish population resides in the more urban north, many fear the struggling southern sheep are ill prepared for the border jumping regulation a secession would no doubt bring.
Says one Mangerton farmer, “I have a herd of over 100 sheep, and to be honest, I don’t know if I got the heart to tell them they can’t graze in their favorite knolls anymore because of the referendum. Or the sheep dogs.”
Others, however, are not so restrained in their feelings.
“Send them the fuck home,” Eloise Gurley belched between coughs. “And I’ll tell you where that sodding is: The grave. ‘Cause if one of those English fucking sheep have a squat on my land, you can be sure where he’ll be buried,” she gurgled, before leaning in and beckoning us closer with a bloated sausage finger. “Not Britain.”
When we asked how she’d be able to tell the difference between the Scottish and English sheep, she simply replied, “Their units.”
Powerful stuff. Across the nation, emotions run high. The people vote. While the sheep can only wait. One thing, however, is for sure. This vote will be crossing genetic barriers, while creating emotional, and in all probability, actual ones.