Why goats are Evil (part 2)

The best way to handle a situation when you are out-numbered by a herd of hoofed beasts is to try to maintain the facade of authority(actually, this is a ploy that I still use today whenever I have a houseful of my daughter’s friends running amok, although it seldom works). So, standing as tall as our puny pre-teen bodies allowed, Charlie and I made our way towards the side of the trailer where a makeshift wooden ramp led to the upper level. For the moment, the goats were a little unsure of themselves and with a little shoving here and there, they made way for our advance. It was a tricky journey in that there were wall to wall goat bodies to scramble over and we were careful not to startle them lest we become trampled in a frantic goat stampede. Slowly we made our way through the mass of hot sticky hair, inching up the ramp, then to the front of the trailer that housed a small area for storage. When we made it to there, we sat with our backs against the metal door that closed in the storage area and tried to catch our breath. This proved to be nauseating. Imagine plunging your nose into the armpits of the offensive line of the Green Bay Packers after a hot summer’s workout and you’ll get an idea of how bad the smell back there was.

To make matters worse, the heat was magnified by all of the packed bodies. It was stifling and I guess now should be the time to tell you that poor Charlie suffered from asthma. He began to look pale and I watched his chest starting to move rapidly under his t-shirt. It was starting to shape up into a bad situation.

The goats moved closer.

We decided that we had to get the door open and retrieve Charlie’s inhaler from the compartment. After pushing and cursing a wall of goats, we managed to open the door enough to get the inhaler and Charlie lip-locked it like a drunk on a bottle of cheap wine. Then we heard a strange noise. Like the beating of war drums, the heavy clip-clop of hooves from a large goat floated up from below. We listened to the sound as the animal made it’s way through the crowded area and heard the frantic jostling of the others trying to get out of the way. The slower ones were bullishly battered aside and we could hear them as they thudded against the sides of the trailer. We held our breath as the brute started up the ramp. When he emerged into our view we saw the biggest damn billie goat this side of Mexico. He had horns as big as a moose and he walked with an attitude that said he was really pissed off. Following him were a gang of younger billies that looked like they were itching for a good ol’ barnyard butt kicking, with my and Charlie’s butts wearing the biggest target. Charlie, nervously took another drag off of the inhaler.

The big billie sniffed at us, angrily rammed the side of the trailer for effect, and started towards us. In my terror, divine inspiration tapped me on my shoulder and provided me with a solution. Inside the compartment we still had our sleeping bags, ice coolers, and a couple of grocery sacks with extra clothes. Fighting our way through the tense, jittery crowd, we made it to the compartment and quickly started building a wall between us and the Goat Gang. For a few precious moments we were safe. Unfortunately, our relieved laughter was short lived as we realized that the goats were chewing away at our breastworks. Goats have the uncanny ability to digest anything and they looked at our flimsy barricade as an opportunity to enjoy an unexpected buffet. They were swarming it in a matter of seconds, chomping gleefully at the smorgasbord of sacks, clothing, sleeping bags, and food.

Nothing was spared. Like a plague of bleating locust, the goats on the bottom floor heard the eating and lustily crammed upstairs to join the frenzy. Charlie and I scooted as far back into the compartment as we could and watched in horror as the wall collapsed and goat invaders spilled over the top. We were pushed, poked, and kicked as the hordes battled for munching position. Adrenaline rushed through our bodies as we desperately tugged on the door to get it closed. In all of the excitement some of the goats forgot their table manners and answered the call of mother nature where they stood and started coating me and Charlie with urine and other smelly goat bodily functions. Needless to say, we weren’t going to win any best of show ribbons.

 
Eventually, we got the door closed with eight or nine goats crammed into the small space with us. The billie heard this and rammed the door in frustration then stood in front just incase we tried to sneak out. So there we were, the two great travelers, scrunched in a tiny prison with smelly, urinating mammals as our cellmates. But, out of despair comes hope. "Wait. All we have to do is wave our arms, you know give the signal. Your dad said he would pull over. Remember your mother said that she would watch for us!" Charlie cried out. In that moment a body shaking jubilation erupted in both of us. We had a way out!There was a light to lead us out of troubled waters. My mother, great protector of her offspring, would have that truck pulled over in an instant when she saw us give THE SIGNAL.
But, as the muses of fate would have it, mom had drifted off to sleep. Our salvation now lay in the hands of the one who was supposed to be watching for our signal. The one who sat cozy and dry, listening to the radio in an air conditioned cocoon of comfort. The one who couldn’t resist the temptation of a good practical joke…

To be continued…