Fucking Billy Goat bastards. Everyone knows about those three, they take the fucking piss.
Our area is pretty chilled most of the time, everyone’s just trying to get by, you know? We don’t all always see eye to eye, but we do our best to rub along together as best we can, and we do alright with a few basic ground rules: don’t make too much noise after nine; don’t eat your neighbours’ family members, don’t fuck with someone else’s enchantments, just stuff like that. Everyone gets it.
Except them. If there’s a disturbance or any trouble in the forest you can bet your arse they’re involved. Major troublemakers. Most folks just try to stay out of their way, you know? No-one wants to draw trouble to their door so these guys get away with a lot of stuff, it drives me crazy.
And of course, with me, they have something to prove, especially that little fucker. It’s always the way when you’re a big guy, so they’re always over here giving it all that trip trap bullshit. They know exactly how to get my goat.
Letting that little one go was my first mistake, but they were new here then, they didn’t know the rules, so I thought what the hell, give them a break, he didn’t seem like such a bad kid.
But the next one? He was fair game; a troll’s gotta eat and how was I meant to know they were brothers? Like I said, they were new to the area and all goats do look alike to me. I don’t know why they got so upset - he got away didn’t he? And they had fair warning, there’s a sign - in both languages. I’m not a monster.
But it seems they’re the sort to hold a grudge and since then the little fuckers haven’t left me alone, trip trapping at all hours of the night. It’s harassment is what it is.
But Goose from the next glade over? He heard Old Foxy tell the Rusalka while he was pretending to sleep on the other side of the blackberry patch that there’s another one coming. Apparently he’s a big bastard with these massive horns and this great big fuckoff head and he’s got his eye on my bridge. Goose says he’s coming for me.
Now, I ain’t afraid of no goats, but I have to protect my property; this bridge is my home, it’s my livelihood. I need to stand up to them once and for all. Now, it seems extreme, but I think it has to happen if my bridge and our community is going to survive. I’ve spoken to Goose and he agrees, it’s the only way.
So I’ve contacted 101 and staged an intervention with the local CSOs. They’ve agreed to put me under police protection until he gets here. It could mean some time on the farm for the big one - I think he’s got form. The little ones might get taken into care, sent to a petting zoo for a bit to mellow, maybe show them the error of their ways. Those places aren’t so bad.
And I think I hear the trip trap of enormous hooves heading my way right now...