After all, what could I do? It’s all very well to condemn me but, at the end of the day, what with one thing and another, and all things being equal (which clearly they weren’t), Abel had the unfair advantage of innocence and an omnipotent being in his corner. He brought it on himself.
I mean, Abel plants a few things in the ground, puts his feet up and Nature does the rest. Meanwhile I’m chasing sheep all over the countryside, defending them from wolves, rescuing them out of bogs, saving ewes from breached lambs and all the rest of it and what happens? Abel presents a bit of wheat that looks more like grass and a few bedraggled cucumbers and I present a beast fit for the King of Kings, only for the vegetarian to becomes teacher’s pet and for me, the meat-eater, to become persona non grata. Where was that in the rules?
So, naturally I get a bit miffed and decide that next year it’s going to be a one-horse race. When the Boss asks where’s his golden-haired boy, I answer that I don’t know. I’m too busy minding my sheep to worry about that lay-about. And what do I get for my honesty? An Almighty bollocking, a tattoo on my forehead and a life on the road. (Goodness knows who looked after my sheep.)
What chance did I have? Mum and Dad had already been kicked out of their last house by the Land Lord for mucking about with apples and snakes. So I was thinking the smart money’s got to be on anything that doesn’t grow out of the ground or bite people. How wrong can you be?