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A goat storyFollow

#1 May 14 2004 at 4:26 AM Rating: Good
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I'm to ashamed to tell you what actually happened. But I'll try. It involved a trip to my uncle's farm where among other animals, he also raised goats. I should explain to you that my uncle was a different kind of person.

One night, after taking a bath, I couldn't find my clothes. My uncle said they had been washed and were drying in the goat barn, which seemed as weird then as it sounds now. However, being young and naive, I ran to the goat barn, expecting to get my clothes, but instead, I was confronted by a circle of men. They wore dead goat heads and nothing else. That's how I knew they were men. They were chanting something low and rhythmic, and I couldn't understand it at first. After a minute or so, I started to recognize the chant. "Goat boy, goat boy, time to be the goats toy!" they chanted in unison growing louder and louder.

I was too scared to move, but after my eyes started to adjust to the dim light, I could see that my clothes were there. However, the goats were wearing them. My first thought was, "Boy, are they ever gonna stink!" Actually, that was my second thought. My first thought involved a strong desire to see my mom. Before I could dwell on it, the men started to slowly move around in the circle, half dancing, half duck walking.

It was about this time they led a goat into the center of the circle, next to me. I had never seen this goat before-- he was huge! He had, I now know today, what was a huge erection. At that age I just thought he had another leg hanging down. "Goat boy, goat boy, time to be the goat's toy". I think you can guess what happened next.

WRONG!

I was small, naked and scared sh1tless, but I wasn't about to become this goat's *****-- or whatever a female goat is called. Anyhow I saw that the only light was coming from a kerosene lantern hanging near the door.

I broke for the door and made it easier than I thought I would. This was due to the fact that the goat headed men were hypnotized by their own chanting and thoughts, no doubt, of what was about to transpire. When I got to the door I grabbed the lantern and threw it in to a pile of hay, where it instantly exploded into flames. I ran out the barn door and slammed it shut. Then I threw down the 2x4 used to lock the door from the outside. Unfortunately for them there wasn't another exit.

Soon the screams and the bleating started. They begged me to unlock the door but it fell on deaf ears. I did mention I was deaf? I lip read so that is why I was able to tell what they were chanting. I also just assumed they were screaming and the goats were bleating, but I didn't care. I was happy and rich to boot. You see, I was my weird uncle's only heir and he was loaded. Besides, wasn't he about ready to let some goat mount me like a rented stud and put his leg, er, thing into my ******? Well, in truth, actually, no, he wasn't.

You see my weird uncle was a great practical joker I later found out. The whole thing was a set up to freak me out. Well, I have to live with those imagined screams and bleats for the rest of my life. The only consolation is that I am now filthy rich. So what if I burned those fellas like a lesbian burns her bra. Still, sometimes at night, when I'm sleeping, I see those guys and I can lip read them, "Goat boy, goat boy, time to be the goat's toy. Goat boy, goat boy..."

The end.

Totem
#2 May 14 2004 at 4:31 AM Rating: Good
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Wow! This is quite cathartic!

Another story about my troubles with goats, if you don't mind.

I have been a long-time fan of goat's cheese. French goat's cheese is my favourite, but local, California goat's cheese is also quite good. I was driving in the country one day and I saw a farm that had a sign up saying "Fresh Goat's Cheese", so I pulled in to pick some up.

The woman greeted me and sold me a pound that was quite fresh. She actually pointed to the goat that supplied the milk and brought me over to pet it. I went over and the goat sniffed me and then the bag that had her cheese in it. All of a sudden, she went bonkers and started to attack me. Hoof's flying and strange noises coming out of her was all I could distinguish while I lay helplessly on the ground. Somehow I managed to get up, grab my cheese and flee in fear of my life.

I went home and just couldn't find the inner strength to eat her cheese. To this day I still have irrational fears about eating anything with goat's cheese. I was served a goat's cheese tart at a restaurant recently and I had to eat it with my back to the wall and the hair on the back of my neck standing. Hopefully one day I will be able to overcome this and maybe this is the way I start.

Thank-you for providing an opportunity to express my inner-most thoughts and fears.

My palms are sweating even from writing this.

Totem
#3 May 14 2004 at 4:39 AM Rating: Good
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Huh!

As I tell these tales more and more repressed memories are surfacing! I must purge! I must purge!

Last week a girl in my department at the hospital had an office birthday. Someone brought in Cedar's Roasted Baba Ganouj and pita. By 4:00 p.m., the baba had gone to caca, but I was hungry so I took a bite. It tasted exactly like a petting zoo, and suddenly I went numb. It all came back to me-- an incident at the Kansas City Renaissance Festival in '87.

I was eating a frozen chocolate covered cheesecake on a stick, walking by the Deck the Duke jousting game, and I spotted a pen of animals. The weathered wooden sign hanging from the shoddily-erected picket pen read "Wee Beasties." It was free, but food was a quarter. I dug deep into the pocket of my checkered Skidz skate pants, wolfed down my sweet dessert wedge, and shuffled inside. I handed the pellet wench two shiny coins, and she proffered two small scoops of tubular grass-green farmy foodstuffs. Hardly had I pivoted 10 degrees when I saw the herd clomping straight for me, kicking up a storm of poo and dust in their wake: disgruntled rams, gangly llamas, and a villainous mob of pissed-off black and blonde goats. The dwarves got to me first, butting at my weakening knees. I clenched the morsels tightly in my palm. "No way, ******** are you getting these pellets!" I thought. But nefarious glances askance from the tallest goat to his minions riled the midgets to move at me in a bony throng, attempting to clobber me down to horn-and-teeth level. They were going for the throat, I swear! I could feel their eyes on me, envisioned them chewing the feathered hair off my head, stomping my oversized red plastic Wayfarer frames.

Just then a fancy-pants pulled me out of the riot. "Hearken, bonny lad! Are you well? Have these gluttonous brutes done you in?" I freaked out. He was wearing white mime-y face paint, shirtcuffs and breeches, and that was even creepier than being eaten alive by a pack of famished, genetically-defective goats in Bonner Springs, Kansas.

Anyway, I've gotten through my life since the incident by repressing everything. That bite of briny baba brought back barbarous blocked-out baby goat attack memories that I know have been eating away at me like any of the various hollow-horned, bearded ruminant mammals of the genus Capra, originally of mountainous areas of the Old World, especially any of the domesticated forms of C. hircus, raised for wool, milk, and meat on that Saturday afternoon.

I need serious psychiatric help.

Totem
#4 May 14 2004 at 4:42 AM Rating: Good
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One last story.

This happened back in flight school. It was very sad for me this particular day, because an innocent looking goat killed my pair of 4 year old rotweilers. It was savage, unprovoked, and apparently done just for fun because the goat ate the hearts out of them. I still have nightmares 20 years later.

Look! I'm shaking!

Totem
#5 May 14 2004 at 5:30 AM Rating: Decent
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Lay the crack pipe down Totem.
#6 May 14 2004 at 6:04 AM Rating: Good
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Quote:
-- or whatever a female goat is called.

Nanny. Dad's Billy, kid's kid.
#7 May 14 2004 at 7:23 AM Rating: Decent
you need help totem
#8 May 14 2004 at 9:39 AM Rating: Good
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Smiley: lolSmiley: lolSmiley: lolEither you have a severely fecked up life.......Or a severely fecked up mind. To tell you the truth it doesn't really matter....either way this is funny ****.




geh, still cant type

Edited, Fri May 14 10:45:06 2004 by spawned
#9 May 14 2004 at 9:42 AM Rating: Decent
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Maybe he has both. One being the result of the other.
#10 May 14 2004 at 1:01 PM Rating: Excellent
Spankatorium Administratix
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ROFL
____________________________

#11 May 14 2004 at 1:36 PM Rating: Good
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I dedicate these stories of my troubled past to A., who has a goat fetish. I imagine he's GHJO at this very moment. Can I get someone to post a goat smiley? That should put him over the top.

Totem

#13 May 14 2004 at 2:28 PM Rating: Good
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Smiley: cookie for totem Smiley: goat for A.

Uhoh....2 goats...hope it doesnt give em a heart attack.

Edited, Fri May 14 15:28:34 2004 by spawned
#14 May 14 2004 at 11:53 PM Rating: Good
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Goats are evil, man.

It's in their eyes.. those horrible, horrible eyes.
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