As the metal gate crashed open all I could see were the two eyes of a horse I knew would be a great friend in the near future. “Hi, I am Boxer, and welcome to the farm” said the horse. “I’m Benjamen,” I replied while my eyes were still adjusting the the light. As I carefully stepped out of the trailer I saw tons of animals in a large open field grazing and having a good time with each other. I did notice that all of the pigs were wondering what was on the inside of the farmhouse. I wandered over to see what they were doing. The pigs said that since their old farmer died they might be able to go inside, but they were too worried that the new farmer might show up. “Who is this new farmer?” I asked. “We think it might be his nephew, Mr. Jones,”
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I did this every day for about a week and didn’t really talk to anyone. But one day everything was a little off, it started to rain and all of the animals were very nervous. “What's happening?” I asked Boxer “He’s arriving,” he said. “Who’s he?” I asked again. “Mr. Jones!” said Boxer. As soon as the words slowly spilled out of his mouth lightning crashed like a thousand sticks of dynamite exploding at the same time. “When will he get here?” I quietly asked. “Now!” whispered Boxer. When Boxer said that word all of the animals on the farm cried in pain as a shotgun was fired into the air. “Y'all better get to work, or this shotguns gonna be pointing at your face!” yelled Mr. Jones. So, all of the animals got to work while Mr. Jones and his buddies from the neighboring farms chatted and drank in the farm house. “Why do we have to do this?” I asked boxer. “It’s the new farmer’s rule,” he replied, “we have to follow it.” “Says who?” I questioned. “Says the shotgun he keeps at his side,” he quietly whispered. “Oh,” I sighed. Little did I know that that sigh would be the last thing that would come out of my mouth for a long
I did this every day for about a week and didn’t really talk to anyone. But one day everything was a little off, it started to rain and all of the animals were very nervous. “What's happening?” I asked Boxer “He’s arriving,” he said. “Who’s he?” I asked again. “Mr. Jones!” said Boxer. As soon as the words slowly spilled out of his mouth lightning crashed like a thousand sticks of dynamite exploding at the same time. “When will he get here?” I quietly asked. “Now!” whispered Boxer. When Boxer said that word all of the animals on the farm cried in pain as a shotgun was fired into the air. “Y'all better get to work, or this shotguns gonna be pointing at your face!” yelled Mr. Jones. So, all of the animals got to work while Mr. Jones and his buddies from the neighboring farms chatted and drank in the farm house. “Why do we have to do this?” I asked boxer. “It’s the new farmer’s rule,” he replied, “we have to follow it.” “Says who?” I questioned. “Says the shotgun he keeps at his side,” he quietly whispered. “Oh,” I sighed. Little did I know that that sigh would be the last thing that would come out of my mouth for a long