/lit/ - Literature

A goat stood out my bedroom window, open to accommodate the breeze. I asked, “Is there anything I can do for you, Goat?” He regarded me disdainfully, locking his square pupil to my round. Our engagement seeming to turn for the worse, I bunched my eyebrows, and made to close the window. “Manners these days,” the Goat said. “Ask a question with no intention of hearing the answer? I’m doing quite alright, very self-actualized, don’t need your help at all.” With that he bent low, and took a bite of my grass.

“But whose grass are you eating?” I asked the Goat, anger steaming my forehead. “If you are so self-actualized, why don’t you eat your own grass?”

“This is my grass,” he said, and bent for another bite. I felt myself beginning to perspire. I stood, facing him. He continued to chew. We stood like this for what felt like a long time.

The Goat finished chewing. “It’s rude to watch people eat,” he said.

Unable to contain myself, I pulled myself through my bedroom window. I took a few quick steps to the Goat, and kicked him in the ribs. The Goat bleated and began to curse me. Undaunted, and knowing that I must maintain control of the situation, I grabbed the Goat’s horns and began to drag him off my lawn. The Goat wrenched his head back and forth, and I took distinct pleasure in maintaining my grip on his horns.

Slowly, I was able to drag the Goat from the lawn and to the street. His hooves found little purchase on the asphalt, and though I was at this point sweating and had spit running down my chin from exertion, I could feel triumph on the horizon.

“Fine, fine!” said the Goat. “If this grass means that much to you, then fine! Just tell me one thing! What do you use this grass for?”

“I mow it,” I said, releasing the Goat’s horns as I hurled him away from me. “Sometimes, I lay in it.”

“Mowing? Laying?” He said.

“Yes.” I replied.

“And where shall I find my next meal?” He asked.

“What does it matter to me?” I said.

“And what if I lay in your dinner,” asked the Goat, “and cut it to pieces?”

I kicked the Goat in the ribs again. “Jesus FUCK!” he yelled, and hobbled down the street. I returned home satisfied.

The next morning, as I left to go to work, I found a pile of green shit on the hood of my car.