You know, Mick. Of course you do! Old Mick. Yes… the one with the farm. He called everything Eyi. Eyi Eyioh to be exact.
The farm. Eyi Eyioh. The sheep. Eyi Eyioh. The cows… the pigs… even the chickens. Eyi Eyioh. All of them.
Well, Old Mick Donnell and his farm were one day, inexplicably, transported to an alien dimension. The inhabitants could only speak in sounds, not words, and very soon all across the dimension, there was a moomoo here and a baabaa there, here a cluck, there an oink, everywhere a quack quack, with Old Mick Donnell on his farm yelling Eyi Eyioh.
It was a right mess.
The skies looked nice, though.
Apologies. I lost control of my senses temporarily, and when I returned this had been typed. Something’s afoot… or ahoof… or aclaw… apad… aflipper… apaw…?
The Mansionic Perspective 
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