Tag Archives: goat

Got His Goat: A Grave Story

goats_and_graves_3_randy_mazie

Hey, Norima!  How you doin’?

“I’m fine, James. but I thought you took that job at the cemetery to make extra money?”

“I did.  It’s to mow the grass around the graves by 4pm every Saturday.”

“It’s 2:30 now.  Are you done already?”

“No, but farmer Nickols sold me his goat.  I tied it to a tree at the cemetery and it’s had nearly 4 hours to roam and eat the grass.”

“James!  It’s sheep that eat all that grass.  Goats eat tin cans and such.”

James began a heavy run toward the cemetery.  He shouted over his shoulder,

“Fired! First Day!”

*100 words

*I remember this prompt and the direction I took it in.  Thought it was time for a non-violent change!

Namaste,

Scott

 

Flash Friday Entry #37 – 100 words

Scott L Vannatter

@SVBookman – Twitter

. My entry this week for Flash Friday.  Click on pic to see the others (read mine first!!!).

“The Bet”

By Scott L Vannatter

_______________________

The couple looked intently at the photograph.

“That’s grandfather Glen,” said Trudy.  “It’s a picture of him on his first ride.”

“How’d he get that at 6 months old?” exclaimed Jerry.

“Well, see, his older brother, Jerome, could talk a bit and told his Dad that Glen could balance a full bottle on his head for thirty seconds.  they reached a better’s agreement, shook on it, and Jerome proved it to his Dad.”

“So, he won the bet?!”

“Yeah, …at least, he didn’t put the cart before the um goat.”

“Hm, or maybe…”

“Don’t say it!”

“Yeah, you could say he got his goat.”

“Bad, Tim. Bad. Quit smiling.”

________________________

Namaste,

Scott

Friday Fictioneers – 7/12/13 – A very Grave Nanny – PG13

Scott L Vannatter

Friday Fictioneers

7/12/13 100 Words

A Very Grave Nanny

________________

“Come on!”  Stevie yelled.  I tried hard to catch up.

We entered the small, local cemetery and he pointed.  I watched, following his finger with my eyes.

“See?  Told you!  Gregory was cursed for having that purple eye and was turned into a chicken by the demon of the cemetery.”

I punched Stevie.  “That’s a nanny goat, not a chicken.”

“God!  It’s even worse!”  Stevie ran off; I shook my head.

I started to walk away; the goat whined.  I turned to pat its head.

It looked at me with that one purple eye and I fell twice running away.

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