Saturday, May 27, 2006

Goat

The goat stood on the parapet and locked eyes with the Princess. Below them, across the moat, a lone archer took aim and fired an arrow at the princess. It flew straight between them, a tickle of wind. The goat laughed. I guess you do look kind of vulnerable up here, he said. I guess a goat can't offer much in the way of protection.

The archer walked away. Bravo for trying, the Goat thought, I would've done the same.

The Princess turned and stared over the horizon. The goat just stood frozen and drank in her beauty, killing himself slowly.

********

Two careers I like:

Chimney Sweep.
Piano Tuner.

********

Eyes still locked on the far horizon, the Princess reached for the goat and scratched his ear. I'm glad you're here, she said, I wanted you to be here.

What lies on the horizon? the goat asked.

I don't know. But I cannot avert my eyes.

The goat stared at the fortifications. The Princess stared at the horizon. And life stared at them both.

********

People I think I have decided to murder:

My Stepfather.

********

The archer returned, only this time leading a force of hundreds of thousands of men. They surrounded the castle slowly, a mollasses of humanity.

The goat turned to his left and stared into the courtyard within the castle where the children played with sticks and hoops.

There is no hope for them, he thought.

No hope, the Princess said, matching thought with words.

The goat smiled his buck toothed smile and shook his head. He arched his back and stared at the sky and kicked his hind legs and let loose an almighty...

giggle.

Well, I guess you've got to laugh.

Laugh? I don't feel like laughing, the Princess said and turned to face him.

Well, said the goat, if today is my day to die, I'd rather go out laughing. I'd like to be remembered that way. Couldn't do much, just goaty stuff, but when that fucker went, he went with a smile.

Goat...

The goat didn't turn. Just stood on the parapet as the arrows began to fly, staring at the archers below and laughing at them. Bring it, he roared. BRING IT.

And the horizon flew towards them, or they towards it.

6 comments:

  1. i have had a chimney sweep and a piano tuner in my house in the last 2 months.

    i once knew a boy who killed himself with one of his father's guns. his father had previously killed this boy's stepmother, the father's wife. i had stayed at their house, the stepmother was really nice. i was about 10, but the badness didn't happen until i was a teenager. my mother didn't want to tell me cause i'd known the boy and she wanted to protect me from the fact that people can kill themselves, even people you know.

    mg
    x

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  2. i think it's mostly best NOT to kill anyone...

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  3. Oh, I'm not really the murderous type, well I am until I've had my morning coffee. After that I'm a kitten.

    A drunk, shabbily dressed, lazy eyed kitten.

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  4. so you write before your morning coffee then sir?

    well done... i tend to too, but it's also before i go to sleep.

    nice goat.

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  5. I cannot do anything before my morning coffee other than grunt, cough and if I am in the mood...ummm..."read the papers"

    Goats gots to stick together.

    x

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  6. What about goats and crabs?

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