Cocky Bastard
Page 11
At first, I didn’t actually think I’d hit him. But then I watched in horror as he fell straight over, all four legs standing straight up stiff, like something out of a bad movie. Now we were both standing over him, waiting for something to happen, neither of us quite sure what to do.
Without warning, the goat flipped himself and was suddenly standing on all four feet. Startled, we both jumped back. Chance’s arms spanned wide as if to protect me from a killer beast.
The baby goat took a few cautious steps, and then proceeded to walk directly into my BMW, as if the two-ton mass of steel wasn’t even there. “Oh my God. I must have hurt his head. Look how confused the poor thing is.” I reached out to touch the wounded animal, and Chance grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pick him up. Look at him. He’s hurt. I ran him over.” I skirted around Chance and leaned down on one knee, extending my hand in peace to the sweet little goat. “And it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Yes, your fault. If you hadn’t been distracting me, I would have been paying more attention to the road, and this would have never happened.” The goat nuzzled into my hand. “Oh my God. Look how cute he is.” I petted the top of his head, and he snuggled even closer.
“It’s not my fault. If you weren’t so uptight about your sexuality, you would have been calm when I found your magic wand.”
I stopped petting the goat’s head. “I am not uptight about my sexuality.”
Chance folded his arms across his chest. “Admit that you pleasure yourself then. I want to hear you say it.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Uptight.”
“Pervert.”
“A pervert is someone who has sexual behavior that is wrong or unacceptable. That’s your problem. You think pleasuring yourself is wrong. I find it perfectly acceptable. In fact, I rather like the thought of you using your little magic wand.”
I was pretty sure my eyes resembled the poor goat’s—bulging from my head. Just then, a truck whizzed by us. One of those double trailers that always made me nervous to drive near. A whoosh of wind in its wake reminded me how close to the road we actually were.
“Come on. It’s dangerous out here,” Chance said.
“What are we going to do with Esmerelda?”
“Who?”
“Him.” I scratched my nails behind the goat’s ear, and he made a low humming noise that sounded like he was saying, “mommmm.”
“Let him go.” Chance waved his arm in the direction of the wooded area behind him. “Back where he came from. He’s fine.”
“He’s not fine.”
“Looks fine to me.”
“I think he has a head injury.”
Chance shook his head. “He’s fine. Watch.” He clapped his hands and made kissing sounds as if he were calling a dog. “Come on buddy. This way.”
Esmerelda made no effort to move, quite content with her head pressed against my chest and her body between my legs.
“You need to let go of him.”
“I’m not holding him here.”
“Not physically. But he’s got his head buried between your cleavage and his body between your thighs. No male is going to walk away from that willfully.”
“See. Told you. Pervert.”
Another truck flew past. This time he sat on his horn as he breezed by, and I went from squatting down to tumbling back onto my ass. The goat…well, he took one step and fell over again—all four legs stood straight up in the air. I couldn’t believe I’d damaged such an adorable baby goat.
“See. He’s hurt. We can’t leave him here.”
“What do you expect us to do for him? Belt him into the backseat of the car and take him to a veterinarian for a full work up?”
Two hours later, we were finally pulling off the highway in Sterling, Colorado to take our passenger to the Sterling Animal Hospital. It had taken Chance nearly a half-hour to unpack and repack the back of my car to make room. He wasn’t happy about it.
“Snowflake?”
“No.”
“It’s from the children’s book…”
“Heidi. Yes. I know.”
“You do?”
“What? You just assume I’m uneducated because I don’t walk around with a stick up my ass like your Harrison?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh yeah? So what made you assume I wouldn’t know a classic literature story?”
Without warning, the goat flipped himself and was suddenly standing on all four feet. Startled, we both jumped back. Chance’s arms spanned wide as if to protect me from a killer beast.
The baby goat took a few cautious steps, and then proceeded to walk directly into my BMW, as if the two-ton mass of steel wasn’t even there. “Oh my God. I must have hurt his head. Look how confused the poor thing is.” I reached out to touch the wounded animal, and Chance grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pick him up. Look at him. He’s hurt. I ran him over.” I skirted around Chance and leaned down on one knee, extending my hand in peace to the sweet little goat. “And it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Yes, your fault. If you hadn’t been distracting me, I would have been paying more attention to the road, and this would have never happened.” The goat nuzzled into my hand. “Oh my God. Look how cute he is.” I petted the top of his head, and he snuggled even closer.
“It’s not my fault. If you weren’t so uptight about your sexuality, you would have been calm when I found your magic wand.”
I stopped petting the goat’s head. “I am not uptight about my sexuality.”
Chance folded his arms across his chest. “Admit that you pleasure yourself then. I want to hear you say it.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Uptight.”
“Pervert.”
“A pervert is someone who has sexual behavior that is wrong or unacceptable. That’s your problem. You think pleasuring yourself is wrong. I find it perfectly acceptable. In fact, I rather like the thought of you using your little magic wand.”
I was pretty sure my eyes resembled the poor goat’s—bulging from my head. Just then, a truck whizzed by us. One of those double trailers that always made me nervous to drive near. A whoosh of wind in its wake reminded me how close to the road we actually were.
“Come on. It’s dangerous out here,” Chance said.
“What are we going to do with Esmerelda?”
“Who?”
“Him.” I scratched my nails behind the goat’s ear, and he made a low humming noise that sounded like he was saying, “mommmm.”
“Let him go.” Chance waved his arm in the direction of the wooded area behind him. “Back where he came from. He’s fine.”
“He’s not fine.”
“Looks fine to me.”
“I think he has a head injury.”
Chance shook his head. “He’s fine. Watch.” He clapped his hands and made kissing sounds as if he were calling a dog. “Come on buddy. This way.”
Esmerelda made no effort to move, quite content with her head pressed against my chest and her body between my legs.
“You need to let go of him.”
“I’m not holding him here.”
“Not physically. But he’s got his head buried between your cleavage and his body between your thighs. No male is going to walk away from that willfully.”
“See. Told you. Pervert.”
Another truck flew past. This time he sat on his horn as he breezed by, and I went from squatting down to tumbling back onto my ass. The goat…well, he took one step and fell over again—all four legs stood straight up in the air. I couldn’t believe I’d damaged such an adorable baby goat.
“See. He’s hurt. We can’t leave him here.”
“What do you expect us to do for him? Belt him into the backseat of the car and take him to a veterinarian for a full work up?”
Two hours later, we were finally pulling off the highway in Sterling, Colorado to take our passenger to the Sterling Animal Hospital. It had taken Chance nearly a half-hour to unpack and repack the back of my car to make room. He wasn’t happy about it.
“Snowflake?”
“No.”
“It’s from the children’s book…”
“Heidi. Yes. I know.”
“You do?”
“What? You just assume I’m uneducated because I don’t walk around with a stick up my ass like your Harrison?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh yeah? So what made you assume I wouldn’t know a classic literature story?”
