Sunday, April 19, 2009
So you guys know that one of my very favorite hobbies is goatgetting.
Goatgetting, in layman's terms, focuses on getting Dr. Krog's goat. Making him scream like a little girl and jump. Oh, I just live to see him cower. As you remember, from this post about one of the greatest pranks I ever pulled.
What a magnificent goat I got that day!
Seriously, that goat was about 17 feet tall and breathed fire.
Anyway, I can only pull off that sort of coup every few years. So I have to sneak in smallish goats, like those little scruffy fainting goats you see on the side of the road, to keep me going in between. Which is why i'm so thankful for this guy:
I know, I know. He looks innocent. But he is actually terrifying.
It's okay when he's looking away like that, thinking about eating kittens or something. And you're all quiet and respectful and trying to avoid catching his attention, but then...
Oh, sweet Jesus, he's seen us. He's looking right at us! Shhhhhhh.
No sudden moves, no loud noises. Maybe he'll go away.
Maybe he'll forget about us.
AAAAH! NO! HE'S COMING RIGHT AT US! RUN!!!!!
RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY!
No, no! You must ignore the perfectly focused Twilight and RUN!
Before he sucks your soul from your body and spits you out, and you're nothing but a bag of bones and gristle. Like Tori Spelling.
See how scary that is? Maybe not as scary, say, as a creepy little gnome next to the yogurt.
But when Dr. Krog is happily drifting off to sleep at night, just seeing that... thing... gets him all riled up. It rises up and turns in his direction, and he can no longer relax. He doesn't know what that thing is going to do. It might go for that tender little spot in the armpit over the ribs, or it might peck his face off, or it might just sit there.
And make plans.
And, for some ungodly reason, the simple act of making my hand do that in his direction drives Dr. Krog simply batty in the funniest way.
I like to keep some power in the relationship, you know.