The Tale of the Sheep Gig

The second weekend of the Hansen Dam faire 1995, I was a little bored. I'd walked the site, browsed the merchants, seen the shows - what was I going to do now? Inspiration came from the many jokes about Celts and sheep.

So I borrowed a stuffed sheep, tucked her under my arm, and started working the merchant booths. At each one I'd contemplate a piece of jewelry and then address a fellow shopper.

"Pardon me - I'm trying to pick out a gift for my girlfriend here," indicating the sheep, "but I'm terrible with colors. Could you tell me if this goes with her eyes?" Some were boggled, some played along, some just escaped as fast as they could.

At one booth I ran into Randall Dighton who played "Scotland's Depraved" for us (he sold a tape, too). I don't know how the merchants felt but I thought it was a successful gig. For Sunday I wanted to follow it up but not do the exact same gig.

The original idea was to take the sheep and go around to each guild. "My girlfriend and I are trying to elope. Is there a priest here who can marry us? Please hurry, her parents aren't far behind." I figured I'd annoy the guilds since the merchants had already had their turn.

That plan lasted until morning notes, when I heard an announcement about Black Gryphon's Friar Rat. ("Don't kidnap/steal things outside faire hours.") After hearing that I had to go over to Black Gryphon and check out Friar Rat, who turned out to be a six inch plastic squeeze toy with a cassock and tiny gold cross. Jeremy, the Captain of Black Gryphon, translated from squeaks to English. This was obviously perfect, so I asked Jeremy to perform a four o'clock wedding. He agreed, with no idea what he was in for.

The next thing I needed was wedding guests. The Amblefolke were doing their animal-puppet schtick in force that faire so they were the natural choice for the friends of the bride. Soon after I was talking to Scotty Ross, their guildmaster. When I explained the gig Scotty's eyes lit up.

"I have a wolf in sheep's clothing puppet. Can I give the bride away?"

"Sure, Scotty. You can give the bride away." And with that settled I headed back to the Septs camp.

At this point I started having doubts about putting together this kind of gig. In the bluntest terms - did I want to be the most famous sheep-f****r in Southern California? Then I got back to camp. The women of the clan were busily preparing for the wedding. The bride was wearing an airesaid and a crown that a merchant had been sweet-talked into lending for the wedding. A lamb had been found to be the flower girl. And they'd even gotten the Wild Geese to loan us a sheep - who was being dressed up as the mother of the bride.

Cold feet or no, I was not getting out of this.

When the time came I gathered up the elopement party and headed for Black Gryphon. Jeremy was ready and waiting. "Okay, who's the groom?" Looking around in confusion, trying to spot the best-dressed woman. . . "Who's the bride?" I pointed to the sheep in Jesslyn's arms, and he broke up, laughing so hard he was staggering around in a circle, bent over.

Once he stopped laughing the wedding got underway. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to join. . .this sheep. . .and this Celt. . .in the bonds of holy matriomony." The Amblefolke had arrived in force, Scotty was standing proudly behind the bride, and the rest of Black Gryphon was trying to figure out what was going on.

A few minutes into the ceremony, as scheduled, the mother of the bride stormed in, followed by the rest of Septs and the Wild Geese (who wanted to know what we were up to with their sheep). She (with Kim interpreting) demanded a halt to the wedding, on the grounds that my motives were only for wool and meat. I protested with declarations of love, longing, and faithfulness.

About this time it came out that the bride's name was Sinead, but I asked everybody not to use it. "She's very sensitive about her name - she got it when she'd just been sheared."

After much negotiating, I won my future mother-in-law's consent by pledging to

1. provide her a field of sweet grass for the rest of her life.
2. not eat her unless she died a natural death
3. not wear any clothes made from her or her daughter's wool

The honeymoon was a short one, though. Early bliss turned to fighting and I only felt relief when a week later the cook picked Sinead for Sunday lunch. Saved me a fortune in divorce fees, I wager.

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