Casey and the Goat

When I was growing up as a kid going to elementary school, I had this friend named Casey. This guy used to love Alanis Morsette with a passion, but I digress.

His dad trained animals for movie sets. So he would have bears, tigers and other insane animals on their farm just outside Vancouver. We went to go visit him during spring break and the first thing they do is warn me about the goat.

I'm thinking, right... goat... how bad can this be? How wrong I would be proven...

In the morning we're going to see this insane zoo of a farm, and we have to walk about 50 yards to the barn from the back of the house. This isn’t exactly a LONG distance. I mean, it’s extremely improbable that anything of circumstance could happen in such a short distance; however we would soon find out exactly how probable the chance of death really was.

Casey and I leave via the back door for two reasons. One, it provided a high vantage point as to see any possible mishaps along the 50 yard stretch. And two, it was a slightly shorter jog. All looked clear as we embarked upon this journey… a journey of disaster it would turn out, for foul things lived there that no man should ever see.

We make it EXACTLY 25 yards in… that’s the halfway mark for the math professors in the audience. Suddenly in the not too far distance, we see a goat. The look on Casey’s face at this point told me we didn’t need a GPS unit to know exactly how far up shits creek we were. He looked like he was about to cry; and cry he did.

We stood still for a good minute. No movement, no talking. The goat sized both of us up, head to toe. Without notice, Casey starts running to the barn yelling “hurry, cmon!”

Now, I’m not sure if the goat spoke English, or if the two of them were just communicating on some supernatural level, but that goat took off like a missile on an intercept course for Casey. I think my friend made it 7 steps before that goat crashed into him like a freight train. Casey went flying through the air and before he even made a touchdown on the dirt, the goat lined up for another hit.

The only thing going through my mind as I was running the final steps into the total safety of the barn was “what did his madman father teach this foul beast?!”

Casey got to his feet and swept the dirt and mud off his clothes. I found this particularly amusing as I knew he was going to get tagged at least another time before he made it to the barn. In my amusement, I forgot that we BOTH had to make it back to the house. Casey didn’t move when he stood up, he was frozen in time. Oddly enough, the goat maintained the same composure. They just stood there and eyed each other up a second time.

So long as Casey maintained his footing and didn’t advance towards the barn, the goat didn’t move. My friend stood in the same spot, not moving for what seemed to be an eternity. I’m pretty sure his life flashed before his eyes.

The goat looked down to eat some grass and in that instant, Casey took off running again. Full tilt this time towards the side of the barn, the goat not too far behind, he makes it around to the side of the barn where there is a small door. Casey though he was safe at last, but, due to a terrible miss-calculation, finds out the door is locked, and the goat is thoroughly successful in smashing him a second time.

The importing of that goat to the farm made a lot of people angry, and was widely regarded as “a bad move”. Further interactions with the evil goat would include full hockey pads and a helmet, but that’s a story for another time.