I know it’s not really time for mid-month snippet sharing yet, but I’m just so proud that I wrote anything at all that I can’t help myself.
It’s kinda-brainstorming for the Halloween Jam too, though I’m not sure I’ll participate because of a lack of time to allocate to it.
Disclaimer: Clothes are not goat food. If you see a goat eating clothing, consult your local veterinarian
You ushered out the last of the late night party crowd and are cleaning the bar when Gina turns off first the strobe lights and then the music. It is blissfully quiet for all of three seconds before a piercing cry from one of the back rooms makes you fumble the wet rag, which leaves a smear down your pants leg as it goes.
Between one blink and the next Gloria is in front of you, fangs bared and hissing up a storm. Gina is not much better, ripping the storage room door of its hinges before you can get in a word edgewise. Rhonda is the only one who’s still a little composed, but even she has grabbed a broom off the wall to defend herself if necessary.
Gina disappears from the room in a blur. Something stumbles in the back room, and then she’s back, holding her nose shut with thumb and index finger.
“There’s a. Thing. There. Like, a sheep, I think? It has four legs, and hooves, and fur, and it’s pretty tiny and cute, I think? Oh, and it shat all over the floor and ate half your coat, Brenda.”
You push past Gloria cursing up a storm, and duck into the back room where you find your bright magenta pea coat half on the floor half in the mouth of some hairy creature with a goatee. The coat comes loose with a tearing sound, leaving one sleeve to the thing while you cradle the rest of it against your chest, murmuring soft promises of bloody vengeance.
The pair of vampires and Rhonda peek into the room, and the latter hands you a bucket of warm water and a mop.
“I think you’re sitting in the droppings, boss.”
You groan in frustration while the maybe sheep. Baby sheep? It really is tiny. Loses interest in the torn sleeve and starts nibbling on your shoulder.
“What in the world is this thing, and why is it here?!”
Gloria sniffs the air and pulls a face. “Someone’s late night snack, maybe? It’s alive and big enough for it. How the crap anyone could get past that smell is beyond me, though.”
You keep the baby sheep, who now makes a sound like a tortured cat, at a distance with one hand while you run through the options in your head.
“This isn’t the kind of emergency we can call Sherriff Willis for, is it?”
Gina very deliberately shakes her head, and you slump back against the wall with a theatric groan. “Well, fuck me. We can’t just lock this thing in a bathroom stall and call it a night, can we?”
Gloria gestures her chin at where the baby sheep is now trying to eat one of your boots. “At the rate it’s going it’d eat its way out before we could get a hold of animal control in the morning. Better keep an eye on it to limit the damage.”
And that is how you find yourself on the floor of your bathroom at four in the morning, staring down what might be a baby sheep who is happily nibbling a hole in the boots of your asshole ex. Not groovy.