The middling goats will be off to the Fair tomorrow so the farmer has been busy trying to find all the things that should have been collected tidily in one place about a month ago and the fixing of the haircuts began and then sputtered out because the trailer lights stopped working just when needed most and the latch on the escape door popped and now it is starting to look like everyone is just going to have to cram into the truck instead which is one of many reasons why I never go to the Fair but Pebbles the Jumbo Jet has been looking wistful and recalling her five minutes of Fair Fame and wondering why she hasn't been chosen this year, it doesn't seem - no pun intended - fair.
After all, she is the Bitter Pill. She thinks people will be coming back to the fair just to see her, and a lot of them will want their money back when they realize she isn't there. Which goes to show how strained her relationship with reality has become.
Maddy the Sheriff of Crazytown just came out and told it like it is - "look, Pebbles, it isn't a whale show. When they have a whale show, you will be the first one picked. "
Anyway there was so much going on I thought it would be a good idea to make a hole in the fence and run amuck with some of my underlings so we did that and started a brawl with the milkers and there was a lot of rhetorical questions hurled about by the farmer when the hole was discovered, including, "Do you think this is funny? Do you think I have nothing better to do than fix this fence? Would you look a good walloping?"
And so on while we loaded up on free apples and ate the milkers' hay and enjoyed a refreshing round of goat rugby with The Overfed, making up for what we lacked in blubber with enthusiasm and esprit de corps.
Viva la Revolucion, Baby!
