Friday, June 1, 2007, 01:07 PM - Life
So, Iím thinking last night, ďHey, you know, if it wasnít already 8pm, Iíd call in for Friday off, maybe Iíll just take a half day!Ē
Should have called it in.
Goats. Wild, manic, rampaging, peeing on your shoes, yes! Escaped local domesticated goats. Only slightly madder than the ďbehind a fenceĒ kind, this sucker had a taste for freedom, and chose to unleash it in the schoolyard.
Look, I fix computers, I watch anime, and my family farm only raises crops. I donít know how to handle livestock! Well, just as well, because it was me who was handled by Mr. Piss, thatís what I named him, after his favorite thing to do on me. Well, favorite right next to kicking and chasing folks around.
By this point Iíve been at work only a few hours, and Iím called over to the second building to deliver some tech-goods. No big deal, a bit of a walk but the weatherís nice after all that rain. So, I hand off my bundle, shake a few hands, and am quickly on my way. Outside near the playground I bump into Mrs. F, who is a fellow technically minded individual. So we get into it about the school website and the merits of teacher account management, when a few kids notice a large dog in the parking lot, coming right for us. We take a quick glance and share a line, ďThatís no dog, itís a goat!Ē So here trots up Mr. Piss, head up like, ďHey guys, I was in the neighborhood, whatís going on?Ē So, Iím like, ďHey goat, not much, look man, weíve got some young ones over there and you smell like youíve been out drinking in puddles, why do you go back and get some rest?Ē He takes a sideways look at me, whips it out and proceeds to piss on my shoes. Iíve got the quickness and somehow remain dry. Seems heís now taken offence at my dogging skills, so he does the next best thing, a nice head-but followed by what I can only describe as kangaroo-fu. Reared up on hind legs, heís now taking cheap punches at my face. Again with the quickness, Iím off to the nearest door. Naturally, the laws of life decree that anything willing to run, must be chased. So Iím quick behind the door, holding it down against his head-buts. Now the goatís spotted the summer school kids on the playground, so Iím resident evil style holding closed the door trying to get his attention back to me. Heís done and lost interest and starts in after the kids, who had been quickly ushered into the gym without incident right as the punching started. Not so lucky was Mrs. F, who got cornered on the other side of the playground by the now very pissed, uh, Mr. Piss. All this time Iím back outside making a monkey show of my self trying to get the goat to charge my way, where he can harmlessly bounce off the blast doors. I guess it worked well enough, but he still chased Mrs. F into the gym with a huff.
Soon enough, Iím darting to another building as Mr. Piss remembers how fun it was to piss on my shoes. On my way I run into some kids trying to go back outside from a restroom break. With deft authority and a slight hint of urgency I asked that they remain indoors, and perhaps itíd be best find their group in the gym. We quickly scoot indoors. Now without mortal victims, Mr. Piss has resorted to crossing swords with our sign, which had been roped up to some polls. Well, word gets around that Iím outside getting owned by a goat, and Mr. H comes out and proceeds to whip Mr. Pissís little goat ass. Iím a bit awestruck, as Iím poking my head out of the door to witness the battle. Before injury can befall either participant, the local animal control boys drive up, grab the goat by the horns, and simply toss him into their truck bed with their bare hands. If there was ever any motivation for beefing up this was it. Never know when youíll be at work and a goat tries to beat you up, I plan on being ready next time! What about you?
I somehow managed to snag this pic of Mr. Piss attacking our sign while cowering shamelessly behind the door.
A quick proof-read makes it sound like I got hurt, never fear, only my pride took a real hit this day.