Suddenly, Angela and Mark heard a throb of angry voices and turned around to see a swarm of farmers, all wearing red, marching down the road. A small boy walked in front of the group, leading a large Brahman bull by a rope with one hand and a placard saying, "Yemen for Government" in the other.

Is that a cow? Why's there a cow? Don't ask, just don't ask.

Why's there a cow damnit?

"1, 2, 3, 4, we don't want our trees as law, 5, 6, 7, 8, so there's no need to legislate," the angry mob chanted in unison, furiously waving their placards and banners. At the front strode Mark's dad, Peter, who was energetically leading the chant with a rusted loud speaker that crackled with each word. He also held a placard saying, "Say No to The Greens."

An old whiskered farmer, clad in all red, suddenly appeared in front of Angela and Mark and thrust homemade placards in their hands.

"Here, lets show those tree hugging hippies that they can't stop us. Just 'cause half of them don't eat meat don't meant they can hurt of beef industry by limiting our land, darn hippies," he said, his tanned, wrinkled skin trembling as he spoke.

Uh-oh, death by prehistoric farmer looking likely.

TBC...