The electric fish swam in circles in the farmer’s pond. He didn’t like it much, it was far too confined after the depths of the ocean, but he knew he couldn’t escape. He’d tried.

All that had happened when the fish had managed to jump its way out of the pond was that it sat in the mud on the bank until a friendly sheep came along and nudged it back into the pond.

The fish wasn’t sure if the sheep had meant to rescue it; all the sheep had done after it plopped back in the pond was to stand there and say ‘Baa’. Now a whole flock of sheep stood watching as the fish swam in circles lighting up the pond from inside.

As the days passed, the sheep came closer and began to sip at the water from the pond. The electric fish worried the water might disappear until it felt new water burbling up from underneath. This was odd, but it wasn’t complaining.

When the sheep began to glow, the farm came down to the pond. The electric fish watched him standing there, hands on hips, grinning.

“Good little fishy,” he said.