It’s Sunday. 0600 Hours. The sheep shuffled into roll call half-asleep, half-hoping for a normal day. That hope died the minute The Rat walked in wearing his overtime badge like a crown. Silence fell. The air grew heavy. You could almost hear the collective thought across the room: “Oh no. Not the damn Rat again.” One brave sheep whispered too loud: “I thought they sent him off-site somewhere…” The Rat heard it. Of course, he did. The Rat always hears. That’s how he survives. That’s how he files complaints. With a smug little smile and a pen already ready to jot something down, he replied: “Your break’s gonna be late today, just for that.” The other sheep, knowing what was coming, let out a loud, unified sheep sound: “Baaaaaaa—” Not in protest. Not in anger. Just in exhausted, defeated recognition of the cycle they could never escape. Somewhere in the corner, The Goat farted. Somewhere behind the monitors, The Dog whispered about Matrix again. And The Cow was already writing the first email of the day about staffing shortages while reaching for his second donut. Welcome to Terminal Zoo Animal Airport Division. Sunday has officially begun.