Chapter One

The sun drifted below the horizon, sending glorious rays of pinks, reds and oranges over the hills and my small goat ranch, highlighting the clouds and giving the tall grass an orange tinge. It was another beautiful sunset in Wyoming. I sighed contentedly as I drove my 1992 Ford pickup down the dusty dirt road, the final rays of the sun gleaming across the slightly rusty hood. I thought of the amazing wonders of God’s Creation, and how wise He must be to create such beauty. My German Shepherd, Bruiser, was snoring contentedly next to me on the bench seat.

  “Wait,” I thought! “What is that in the road?” Some sort of animal, but not a deer. I slammed on my brakes and groaned. Bruiser slid off the seat and started making a peculiar grumbling noise that he makes. It can only be described as someone gargling with marbles and lemon juice, while sneezing. I ignored him, and looked to see what it was.  It was that pesky billy goat again! I’m pretty sure that thing is alive, and by that I don’t mean just living, I mean alive with a human-like grasp on reality. I think he has a secret lab in his shed that he uses to devise escape methods from his pen. As a matter of fact, I’m certain of it. And although I’ve never verified this part, I’m also pretty much certain he has hidden surveillance cameras that warn him about when I am coming, so he can vacate and cover the entrance to his lab.  I stopped the pickup, and dug around in my lunch pail for the cookie I had saved in case of just such an event (he has a history of doing this).  Bruiser looked hopeful as I opened my lunch pail.

  “Too bad, pup” I muttered.  I stepped out of the pickup, but left him in the truck. He did not get along with the goats. “Your mean old boy won’t let you chase him tonight,” I told him. He sighed and laid down.

  “Ogre!” I hollered. He ignored me. “Ogre!” I called again.  He teasingly stepped toward me. I lunged at him. He quickly sidestepped, and I slipped in the mud from last night’s rain, falling flat on my face. Well, it did rain last night; therefore it must be mud, right? Right. Mud! Not that other thing that goats make. No definitely not.

  “Ogre!” I shouted, slightly annoyed. He stepped toward me again, and again I tried to grab him. This time I fell flat on my behind, into the… mud. It was all over my hands too. Where was my rope when I needed it?

  “Yuck!” I thought. Stupid goat. I decided to change tactics. In a much sweeter voice, I called out,

  “Ogre, do you want a cookie?” At the mention of a cookie, he happily trotted over to me, and I loaded him into the pickup bed. He had stayed remarkably clean. As I closed up the back of the pickup, he stood up on the end and grinned triumphantly. Then he peed on me.

  “Great,” I thought. “Now not only am I muddy, but I stink like a rutting billy goat.” I could become a millionaire if I could figure out how to stop a rutting billy goat from peeing on everything.

  I grabbed an old feed sack from the pickup bed, and set it on my seat, to hopefully protect it. Ogre glared smugly at me. When I got in, Bruiser started grumbling again. Apparently he didn’t like me to smell like a billy goat any more than I do. I pulled a U turn, and headed back out towards his pen.

  I think the cookies are all part of his plan. His lab must have signs and posters with cookies all over them. Cookies and COB (corn, oats, and barley blend), actually. Those are his favorites. Sometimes he will come if I have strawberries, but cookies and COB are an absolute way to catch him. That must be the main point of his diabolical plan, complete with surveillance cams, high tech room monitors, eye retina scanners (to keep the nannies and Joey, the wether, out) and a super computer with cameras in my kitchen. The cameras are in the kitchen so when Mom or one of my sisters make my lunch, he knows if there are cookies or strawberries in it. He only ever escapes if I have cookies or strawberries in my lunch. That thing is way smarter than any goat ever ought to be.

  As I slowed to a stop by the gate of his pen, I could hear Joey, his companion, calling for his friend. That poor goat, unlike Ogre, is dumber than a box of rocks. You could leave the gate open, and he wouldn’t even notice, and would carry on loudly, alone and grumpy. He has done it more times than I can count. As I walked up to the gate, I realized again that this was the case. I lead Ogre back in, and went to lock up the gate, but quickly realized he had somehow chewed-on-and-broke-and-totally-busted the steel clasp. I have also determined this goat has a monkey in his mouth, where any normal goat would have a tongue. This monkey can unlock and destroy any lock. Have you ever seen in the movies the doors with right around 30 locks all strewn up and down the length of the door? You have no idea how seriously I considered hooking up his gate like that. Unfortunately, although it would probably (maybe?) keep him in, it would doubtlessly lock me out. I would probably lose some or all of the keys. But hey, I could always hop the fence, right? It might work better. I smiled as I contemplated these things, while securely tying the gate shut with twine until morning. It was dark now, and very hard to see, but I had my headlights turned so I could see better. There was just no way I could fix this until morning, though. I would have to go down to the hardware store and buy a new latch… again. I cut the extra twine off with my pocket knife, and returned to my pickup. I pulled another U turn, and headed home.
 
  This time, the 5 minute drive was much less eventful. I pulled up and parked. I could see my mother through the window of the two story farm house doing something in the kitchen. Her shadow danced across the yard, and the light streamed out the window around it. I walked up the driveway, and realizing my boots were muddy from last night’s rain, decided it would be best to go through the back door on the kitchen. When I walked in, my mother kept her back to me, but said,

  “Xander, that you?”

  “No, this is Mr. Ogre the Billy Goat. How are you?” I replied. She laughed, and turned to look at me, but her face turned to horror at the sight of me. I realized I was probably pretty grimy looking.

  “Oh sweet mercy! Alexander Edward Raymond! You get your kiester up those stairs and in the shower this instant! I am just gonna pretend that you did NOT just walk in my kitchen with goat manure on your face and clothes. Get those boots in the back room, and get outta my kitchen!” She stepped closer, and paled further. “Pee Eeww! You stink like that billy goat again! Shoo! Shoo!” She grabbed an old newspaper off of her marble counter top and started swatting me with it in an effort to get me to move quicker. “Eck! Boy, out of my kitchen! You’re twenty, you know better than to come into my kitchen like that!” I laughed, but did as she wished, and disappeared up the stairs.  As I walked up, I could hear her half laughing, half grumbling about my smell and state of cleanliness with my two younger sisters, Hadassah and Alisa. They are still in high school. Alisa was the elder of the two, and is a senior. Hadassah is the baby of the family, and a sophomore. They are both homeschooled, like I was.

   “I’m back, Dad!” I hollered down the hall toward his den. He mumbled something in reply, but I couldn’t hear what it was. I headed down the hall towards the bathroom, making a quick stop in my room to grab my pajamas.

  Twenty minutes later, after towel drying my brown hair, I emerged from the bathroom, smelling more like a human than a goat. I went down to the kitchen, and explained why I was late. By time I was finished recapping the night’s events, my mother and sisters were practically rolling on the floor laughing! They found that goat to be the most amusing thing in the world. Although I would never admit it to anyone, I happen to be slightly fond of the ornery thing too. Although he did really need to stop peeing on me. Nasty critter.

  That night as I was sleeping, I had some very odd dreams about a billy goat that could run a computer and speak like a human. He was downloading internet files about cookies and COB. Then he started downloading something huge, and a vault appeared from nowhere, which was full of cookies and COB. He devoured them all, and then found me, which set alarms to start going off, as I ran out of his lab. On the way out, I slipped in the manure and he caught up and peed all over me. He looked suspiciously like a goat that was very familiar to me. But this goat’s name was Troll.