Neglect. That is what I had been feeling. In fact I'm sure if you asked the whole farm right at this very moment in time they would agree that we were being neglected. Farmer Jones, the master of the farm, had the nerve to come home intoxicated, with the most poor excuses for workers to take care of our ratty old farm. You daren't ask about the rant I'd given to some of my comrades. Last night we could not bare it anymore so we snuck into the store-shed. There wasn't any other option, we hadn't been fed in the longest while. We were giddy at the sight of our food. With all the commotion, its just then that the bastard and his employees woke from their drunken slumber. They hit us with whips and rashly they acted, so idiotically oblivious to the reasons behind our actions. We decided that no longer were we going to stand for this. It was all too much for us to bear. So we rebelled we thrashed, kicked, and pushed them so far back that the five of them ran down the main road, screaming at the sight of the many enraged animals. I glanced from the corner of my eye at the horrified Mrs. Jones who scurried off with only a suitcase, and not surprisingly, that odd bird Moses. I chuckle as I recall this, tell me now, wouldn't you laugh at this situation?