goats are freaking dangerous. [a cautionary tale]
Aug 20, 2010 20:08:36 GMT -5
Post by phunke on Aug 20, 2010 20:08:36 GMT -5
Mmkay so I had an interesting ordeal at the barn today that I decided to share with you all. Because I care about you, and I don't want you to repeat my mistake. I want you to know, beyond all shadow of a doubt, the following lesson:
GOATS ARE EVIL. THEY ARE SPAWN OF SATAAAAAAN. [this is not an Aya reference.]
[disclaimer: If you like goats, I do not recommend reading the following. Seriously. Don't bash me for this, they shucking scare the crap out of me.
Okay so basically, I ride horses. My mom and I have two horses and we keep them at a barn. My instructor of 8 years "Mary" lives on-site. She has a goat. I met this goat about 7 years ago at the barn; he used to chase me around when I fed the horses. I developed a fear of goats. Then 'Mary' moved to a different house and the goat no longer stayed at the barn. My goat-fear became a thing of self-mockery, a sort of "Oh hahaha! As a little kid I had goataphobia...isn't that funny?"
IT IS NOT FUNNY. GOATAPHOBIA IS NO JOKING MATTER, KIDDIES.
I learned this the hard way. 'Mary' moved to a new barn where she lives on-site once more, and the goat came with her. Normally he stays away from the stalls and just kind of eats and sleeps.
Today, he was standing in front of my horse's stall. I glanced at my mom and laughed cheerily. After all, I'm totally not afraid of goats. Right? Right. The Goat watched as I carefully placed my saddle on the lower board of a fence. I then walked over to a pile of boards and grabbed one that was about 4 feet long. I walked over slowly, still grinning like the overconfident idiot that I am, and gently prodded The Goat on his rear end with the board.
My assumption was that he would amiably amble away.
I did not foresee him turning slowly around like in one of those horror movies, except most horror movies don't have GOATS because apparently they're the most underestimated evildoers ever. His dark eyes gleamed with hidden malice. My eyes bugged out as the flashbacks from my old goataphobia slowly returned. Naturally, I clung to the facade of a casual predator, gently coercing its prey to leave said predator's stall-area. So I prodded him again.
I swear at this point that The Goat was freaking grinning at me. See above horror-movie-reference.
"Go on!" I calledstupidly bravely. "Go on! Go!" I swung the board at him like an empty threat. I should've known; true villains always see through empty threats. They're like schoolchildren: If you don't mean what you say/do, they sense it and they devour you take advantage of that.
I saw the goat put his head down, curled grey horns glinting ominously in the morning sunlight. "No- no - go away," I insisted, a small bit of fear creeping into my voice. Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice whispered that my mom was in a stall about ten feet behind me. As a last resort.
[WARNING::: if you are an animal rights activist, I seriously recommend that you don't read past this point. xD]
Feebly, reluctantly, I swung the board at The Goat's head. It hit him on the horns. I almost sighed with happiness; hitting his horns wouldn't hurt him, and now that he knew I meant business, he would surely turn around dejectedly and leave me in peace!
I'm sure at this point that you're mentally shouting "No phunke, don't do it! Don't let your guard down!" If you aren't, then you clearly haven't gotten the point here. GOATS ARE THE DEVIL'S OFFSPRING. They are not easily deterred.
Now I had struck the first blow, and The Goat knew that I was fair game. I began to back away, hoping to calm him down, but instead he just got more excited. He put his head all the way down and jogged a few steps toward me. "No!" I shouted, swinging at him again, a little stronger this time. I hit him on the horns again. He jigged sideways and I tried to back up a bit, but once again he seemed to gain audacity from this. The Goat started towards me, and suddenly all the panic of my childhood goataphobia flooded back. A lot of profanity also flooded into my mind but that's beside the point. "NO - NO - GET AWAY" I shouted, hearing the rising pitch in my voice. He paused for a minute, sizing me up, and then tried again to charge me. My arms felt like jelly; nevertheless they cut through the air with a swiftness I'd not thought possible from myself [well, it seemed like that anyway] and the shaking wooden board hit The Goat on the side of his head. At first I was naive as per usual, thinking 'Yaaay I didn't hit his horns! Now he'll go away because I hit him!'
The slow pace at which I learn is astounding in its similarity to a sprinting slug, or perhaps a snail, or maybe a rock.
The Goat was legitimately pissed off now. This had ceased to be a game for him, and I was an enemy which had grown far too audacious for his taste. He came towards me again.
At this point, I went into hysterics.
I don't remember exactly what words I said, and they may not have actually been words at all, but I think it was something like this:
"NO- NOOO - GET AWAAAAY - DEMON SPAWN - MOM - HELP SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP - HEEEEEELP PLEASE - MOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYY"
Seriously. My voice was in the pitch range of a bat. My throat felt like at any moment it would split open or perhaps shatter into small shards. My mom was in the stall still, saying "I don't know what to do! I can't! I'm sorry, I don't know how to help!" which I didn't really process much because I was locked inhand-to-hand board-to-horns combat with The Goat From Hell. He was getting closer, ever closer, and my screaming didn't deter him after the first half-second. I should've known that evil creatures delight in the screams of helpless children, but naturally I wasn't thinking that through. I felt like my body should've been strengthened with the adrenaline of battle, but instead I was getting weaker, flailing and backing up and shrieking my lungs out.
Finally, some tiny bit of logic kicked in: I flung the board to the ground, turned around, ran to the stall my mom was in, and hurtled my body into it. I screamed once, something incoherent and full of pure terror, before collapsing against the wall and sobbing. Low, rough, traumatized yells kept forcing their way out of my mouth. My mom stared at me in confusion for a second - I don't think she knew about my long-forgotten goataphobia - before her motherly instincts kicked in and she came over to comfort me. I permitted her to hug me as I muttered something about why I hate goats, then turned away and buried my face in her horse's neck.
When I looked out of the window, The Goat had walked over to my newexpensive saddle and started rubbing his freaking horns on it. I began to whimper the word 'no' and burst into fresh tears.
My mom left the fruitless job of consoling me to her horse, exited the stall, and picked up the dropped board. She marched over to where The Goat was molesting my saddle and poked him in the shoulder. He turned from his molesting job and glared at her, lowering his head. "No," she said firmly as if talking to me when I say I want to go to the barn instead of doing my homework. Apparently, that motherly practice had granted her some Magical Denial Skills, because after a few more pokes, The Goat sauntered away warily with only one backward glance, a long one at me which clearly said "I'm coming back for you little girl, and next time I won't leave your organs inside of your ribcage."
Moral of the story:
GOATS ARE EXPLETIVING EVIL. SRSLY.
Things I learned:
I hope you learned something from this.
GOATS ARE EVIL. THEY ARE SPAWN OF SATAAAAAAN. [this is not an Aya reference.]
[disclaimer: If you like goats, I do not recommend reading the following. Seriously. Don't bash me for this, they shucking scare the crap out of me.
Okay so basically, I ride horses. My mom and I have two horses and we keep them at a barn. My instructor of 8 years "Mary" lives on-site. She has a goat. I met this goat about 7 years ago at the barn; he used to chase me around when I fed the horses. I developed a fear of goats. Then 'Mary' moved to a different house and the goat no longer stayed at the barn. My goat-fear became a thing of self-mockery, a sort of "Oh hahaha! As a little kid I had goataphobia...isn't that funny?"
IT IS NOT FUNNY. GOATAPHOBIA IS NO JOKING MATTER, KIDDIES.
I learned this the hard way. 'Mary' moved to a new barn where she lives on-site once more, and the goat came with her. Normally he stays away from the stalls and just kind of eats and sleeps.
Today, he was standing in front of my horse's stall. I glanced at my mom and laughed cheerily. After all, I'm totally not afraid of goats. Right? Right. The Goat watched as I carefully placed my saddle on the lower board of a fence. I then walked over to a pile of boards and grabbed one that was about 4 feet long. I walked over slowly, still grinning like the overconfident idiot that I am, and gently prodded The Goat on his rear end with the board.
My assumption was that he would amiably amble away.
I did not foresee him turning slowly around like in one of those horror movies, except most horror movies don't have GOATS because apparently they're the most underestimated evildoers ever. His dark eyes gleamed with hidden malice. My eyes bugged out as the flashbacks from my old goataphobia slowly returned. Naturally, I clung to the facade of a casual predator, gently coercing its prey to leave said predator's stall-area. So I prodded him again.
I swear at this point that The Goat was freaking grinning at me. See above horror-movie-reference.
"Go on!" I called
I saw the goat put his head down, curled grey horns glinting ominously in the morning sunlight. "No- no - go away," I insisted, a small bit of fear creeping into my voice. Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice whispered that my mom was in a stall about ten feet behind me. As a last resort.
[WARNING::: if you are an animal rights activist, I seriously recommend that you don't read past this point. xD]
Feebly, reluctantly, I swung the board at The Goat's head. It hit him on the horns. I almost sighed with happiness; hitting his horns wouldn't hurt him, and now that he knew I meant business, he would surely turn around dejectedly and leave me in peace!
I'm sure at this point that you're mentally shouting "No phunke, don't do it! Don't let your guard down!" If you aren't, then you clearly haven't gotten the point here. GOATS ARE THE DEVIL'S OFFSPRING. They are not easily deterred.
Now I had struck the first blow, and The Goat knew that I was fair game. I began to back away, hoping to calm him down, but instead he just got more excited. He put his head all the way down and jogged a few steps toward me. "No!" I shouted, swinging at him again, a little stronger this time. I hit him on the horns again. He jigged sideways and I tried to back up a bit, but once again he seemed to gain audacity from this. The Goat started towards me, and suddenly all the panic of my childhood goataphobia flooded back. A lot of profanity also flooded into my mind but that's beside the point. "NO - NO - GET AWAY" I shouted, hearing the rising pitch in my voice. He paused for a minute, sizing me up, and then tried again to charge me. My arms felt like jelly; nevertheless they cut through the air with a swiftness I'd not thought possible from myself [well, it seemed like that anyway] and the shaking wooden board hit The Goat on the side of his head. At first I was naive as per usual, thinking 'Yaaay I didn't hit his horns! Now he'll go away because I hit him!'
The slow pace at which I learn is astounding in its similarity to a sprinting slug, or perhaps a snail, or maybe a rock.
The Goat was legitimately pissed off now. This had ceased to be a game for him, and I was an enemy which had grown far too audacious for his taste. He came towards me again.
At this point, I went into hysterics.
I don't remember exactly what words I said, and they may not have actually been words at all, but I think it was something like this:
"NO- NOOO - GET AWAAAAY - DEMON SPAWN - MOM - HELP SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP - HEEEEEELP PLEASE - MOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYY"
Seriously. My voice was in the pitch range of a bat. My throat felt like at any moment it would split open or perhaps shatter into small shards. My mom was in the stall still, saying "I don't know what to do! I can't! I'm sorry, I don't know how to help!" which I didn't really process much because I was locked in
Finally, some tiny bit of logic kicked in: I flung the board to the ground, turned around, ran to the stall my mom was in, and hurtled my body into it. I screamed once, something incoherent and full of pure terror, before collapsing against the wall and sobbing. Low, rough, traumatized yells kept forcing their way out of my mouth. My mom stared at me in confusion for a second - I don't think she knew about my long-forgotten goataphobia - before her motherly instincts kicked in and she came over to comfort me. I permitted her to hug me as I muttered something about why I hate goats, then turned away and buried my face in her horse's neck.
When I looked out of the window, The Goat had walked over to my new
My mom left the fruitless job of consoling me to her horse, exited the stall, and picked up the dropped board. She marched over to where The Goat was molesting my saddle and poked him in the shoulder. He turned from his molesting job and glared at her, lowering his head. "No," she said firmly as if talking to me when I say I want to go to the barn instead of doing my homework. Apparently, that motherly practice had granted her some Magical Denial Skills, because after a few more pokes, The Goat sauntered away warily with only one backward glance, a long one at me which clearly said "I'm coming back for you little girl, and next time I won't leave your organs inside of your ribcage."
Moral of the story:
GOATS ARE EXPLETIVING EVIL. SRSLY.
Things I learned:
- My arms are really not strong
- I can scream like a tortured walrus, except higher-pitched, when I want to
- Something is seriously wrong with my fight-or-flight response
- I would not survive the Hunger Games if there were goats in it. I'd probably be good to go if there were any other animals/mutts though.
I hope you learned something from this.
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