Talking in Tongues

    Our first appointment at the veterinary hospital arrived right on time.  It was a buck (a male goat) scheduled to get castrated.    I could smell the musky little guy before I could see him.   I looked over the stall door to see a thirty pound, shiny black goat with horns, a long goatee and a bouffant.  He looked like he grew up on the Jersey Shore.  All he was missing was hair gel and some gold chains.  The girls in the office said they didn't see it and he seemed to remind them more of Satan.  We agreed to disagree until they went to catch him. 
     I was in the office when a deafening roar broke out from the barn.  I crossed myself as I headed into the barn.  I found the veterinarian and Molly,wide eyed, holding the goat.  I asked, over the shrieking animal, what had happened.  They said they simply went to catch the little flour sack sized goat when he started screeching in tongues as he torpedoed, horn first, at the doctor's head.  She was able to catch him right before impact.  He sounded like a Judas Priest record being played backwards, blasting at full volume as they moved him into the surgery room.  I asked the doctor if she wanted me to call in the local priest for assistance or if she thought she needed some holy water or a crucifix for the procedure.  She said she might.  Luckily, the anesthesia was enough to silence the demons, as he slept quietly through the procedure, where he didn't feel a thing.  The procedure was uneventful as we exorcised the testosterone makers right out of him.  He spent the rest of the day quiet and peaceful in his stall until his owners came to take him home.  Amen.

You may be the prince of darkness but we got your nuggets.

      
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Copyright (c) 2014 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com January 29, 2014