I swerve to miss hitting grandma in her slow moving red Corvette and swear! Ugh! It’s Monday; I just spilled coffee on my white shirt and I’m late. What else could go wrong?
Thunder cracks and I cringe, I take it back! I turn off the highway toward my office and pull in just as my phone beeps a message. I scan the email from my boss.
Need someone to collect the paper work from the Sandberg Farm. Be a doll and get it.
I roll my eyes at the term ‘doll’ and back out of my parking space. The farm is thirty minutes away but I don’t really mind the trip. I’m sure I can swing by my apartment and swap shirts before I go back to the office without notice. The farm comes into view thirty minutes and several Taylor Swift songs later. The stain seems less noticeable in the brightness of the sun. Old man Sandberg looks up and motions me into the goat pen. Great! I swap my Jimmy Cho shoes for a pair of Nikes before I trudge through the dust and the gate. He smiles, wipes his hands on his overalls and hands me an envelope. I shake out the documents making sure each page is signed in the designated areas. He seems pretty chipper for a guy who’s losing his farm to the bank.
“Missed one, Sir,” I say as I pull a pen from my pocket and point to the clearly marked sticky note.
“Sorry, Ma’am, my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be,” he says reaching for the pen. He take a grip but loses it. The pen sticks into the soft ground and a goat starts to take a bite. I swiftly stoop and try to retrieve the pen front the animal’s mouth without actually touching him. He sniffs my shirt and lets go of the pen. A second later he’s chomping on my shirt, his lips slurping at the coffee stain.
“Hey! Don’t eat my shirt!” Too late, he rips a hole and munches it down. Another curious goat take a quick bite at my sleeve. “That part doesn’t even taste like coffee!” I complain.
“Coffee, these fellas love coffee!” the old man chortles.
I keep struggling to rise but the sea of goat lips nibble their way across my shirt until I’m wearing a tattered button down shirt with one sleeve missing and my midriff showing. The old man reaches down and pulls me up from the herd.
“Go on git, you can’t eat the whole thing I just feed you!” he says.
“Thanks. I know it’s hard to help me when I’m essentially taking all of this away from you.”
“It’s never hard to help another human being. But I’m sure gonna miss this place. I wish I had more time,” he says on a sigh.
I pat his arm, pull the documents from the envelope and drop them on the ground. The goats go nuts.
“Oops, I guess the foreclosure will have to wait until I can get new documents. You’ll have 30 days to review and sign them. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” I smile and make my way back through the gate. I’m sure the next time I go to collect, the documents will have a huge coffee stain on them.
p.s. the goat in this picture was taking from the farm of Carl Sandburg, a famous author. His wife raised prize winning goats and this one got very close!
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The Goat Ate My Shirt!