Goats In The Mist

Andrew looked out the window of his newly purchased home on Ridel Rd. They were back. He saw their ghostly white figures outlined in the morning dawn as they crept out of the woods. They appeared with the morning mist as if they materialized out of it. Most were whitish in color, but some were pitch black with white patches. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn they were closer today. He should have known that this was the reason he’d gotten the place way under market value. Picking up the phone, he looked up a number and dialed.

“Hello? My name is Andrew Wilde, and I’m pretty sure my property is being ensorcelled.” “Excuse me? Ensorcelled?”

“You know, taken over, haunted, bewitched.”

“Oh, of course. So you’re saying you have a ghost problem?”

“Yes, goats.”

“Ghosts?”

“Goats.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re being haunted by ghosts?”

“Yes, by goats. They come at dawn with the morning mist.”

“The ghosts?”

“Yes, the goats. They come every morning, without fail. I know what they’re thinking. They know that I know that they want to take over my property.”

“Sir, how can you know what they’re thinking? They’re ghosts.”

“Well, it’s this look they give me with those beady little eyes, so knowing. It’s as if they’re aware of how much they scare me.”

“The ghosts?”

“Yes, ma’am, the goats.”

“I see. Uhhh, sir? What do they do when they come out of the woods?”

“Well, they eat, I believe.”

“The ghosts eat?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything in their path. Especially clover.”

“Could you repeat that?”

“They like the clover best.”

“We weren’t aware that ghosts like clover.”

“Oh, yes! And new green shoots of grass, too!”

“Oh dear, that’s not good.”

“Exactly! So what do you suggest I do?”

“Well, have you tried speaking to them?”

“Actually, yes. But all they said was ‘maaaa maaaa'.”

“There’re children too?”

“Well, yes, I think I did see a couple of kids, but no more then three or four.”

“Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but, I’m really not sure we’re talking about the same thing.” “Goats! Goats, you ninny! My property has been invaded!”

“We deal with ghosts, sir, hauntings! Things that scare you!”

“Yes, goats! Exactly! They do scare me! The way they look at me is quite frightening! And the way they materialize in the mist is altogether haunting, wouldn’t you say?”

“But sir, I’m sure that there is nothing we can do for you. Your problem is going to have to be solved some other way. I’m sorry.”

“But you can’t just leave me like this! What’ll I do? The farm down the road from me recommended you! They said that you took care of their little problem for them!”

“We did? What problem was that, sir?”

“Poultry heists. They said that weird things were going on in their hen houses. Chicken disappearing, different ones reappearing in their places that wouldn’t lay eggs. Poultry heists!”

“Don’t you mean poltergeists?”

“Yes, that’s what I said, poultry heists!”

“Listen, I think I’ve had quite enough of this conversation, thank you. Now please, sir, if you don’t mind, I’m going to be on my way now.”

Andrew sat by the kitchen window watching the goats as they grazed their way over to his back porch. Actually, they were kind of cute. He liked the way the kids kicked up their heels with goatish abandon, butting the older goats for fun. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe, he and the goats could reside in peace together and they wouldn’t cause too much damage. Maybe, he’d open a bed and breakfast and start rumors of goats. That would certainly draw people in. He’d call it Goats in the Mist Inn. Perfect.