{I wasn’t planning to participate this week in Friday Fictioneers, a photo prompt that has us all writing 100 words, this time, just a day or two after Christmas. But I couldn’t resist. No major research involved in this one, don’t worry. Just a few memories of goats of Christmas Past. I fear there may be some blatant errors, in animal husbandry, which the farmers among you will, with any luck, apprise me of. Enjoy your holidays, whatever and wherever they may be!}
My goat’s named Molly.
Named after my Mama, God Rest Her Soul.
Named not a moment too soon. Not a moment, before she proved herself useful.
My billygoats sired ten slippery kids off her. One each.
Always giving birth at Christmas, every year.
Poor dear. As wide as she was tall.
Still, munchin’ on an old nylon windbreaker hood, she kept watch. Perched high up, on a picnic table, in her clackety-clack heels.
She’s got about three kids left in her, I reckon.
An’ if she wants to eat them daisies, off Mama’s fresh grave…
Well, I say, let her!
Very busy indeed!
I found this tale rather amusing, Andrea. Much like my story, the goat has become the gravesite caretaker.
So happy to get the nod from a champion of the comedic! Kicking myself for not thinking of watering and fertilizing, as you did! Happy New Year!
Sounds to me like the second Molly has been more useful than Molly the first… but then if your mother would have born 10 siblings with different father it might have been frowned upon… and a lot of half siblings to keep track of
Bingo Bjorn! I was trying to get across that the narrator was a bit too cavalier about letting the goat eat his mom’s grave-top daisies, when Mama was barely cold in the ground. Seems there was little or no love lost there, God Rest Her Soul. ?
And I would hope he is measuring his mom’s usefulness, using a slightly different standard, than the one he used to value his goat! Otherwise very few of us moms would measure up. ?
Excellent!! I really enjoyed it!
Thank you Violet!
I did love the voice for this – you did it very well, Andrea. A lovely picture painted, though I don’t envy poor Molly goat all those pregnancies!
Thanks Lynn!
My pleasure
hopefully, molly won’t end up as an old goat to preserve her reputation. 🙂
I don’t think mama Molly would mind her eating the daisies either. Nicely told tale!
Thanks Brenda
Dear Andrea,
I’d say that Molly’s earned all the daisies a nanny goat can gobble. Cute story. Happy New Year.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Yes Rochelle, and Bon Appetit to her!
The easy voice to this is delightful
Thank you neil! This seemed like a rural or low-income area, so I imagined a narrator with relaxed manners, and direct, non-flowery, plain speech.
I found myself changing “yets” to “buts” and leaving whole clauses off sentences. I think this was for economy and rhythm, both, and also just because the word choice sounded too pretentious, for a practical, bottom-line minding person who does not mince words.
Of course, that last characteristic came in handy for FF. I was never more than four words off from 100!
Busy goat!
Yes, not an enviable life!
I’m thinking Molly has more than enough paid her dues!!
Yes, indeed. I may have hidden this too well, but I also meant to imply, that though the goat Molly had earned the narrator’s respect and proved herself useful, perhaps the human Molly had not. ?
Ahh