THE LEGEND OF THE STONE GOAT
Once upon a time, long long ago, there was a small valley high in the mountains.
This valley was in the region that was the homeland of goats. It was a beautiful
meadow full of sweet grass and cool water and it would have been a wonderful
part of the goat world except for one thing. The terrible stone goat. This
one goat ruined everything. Because of the stone goat the valley was always
awful. Littered with the bleached bones of goats killed by the monster,
some of them hundreds of years old. Dead bloated goat bodies were always
spread before the stone goat like some awful sacrifice. The air was always
full of the futile screams of the female goats pleading to the stone goat.
Each mating season the horror began anew. During the season of lambs, the
stone goat did nothing to no one. Every one was fine. But as soon as the
females went into heat the trouble started. The males would strut and pronk
and fight each other as goats will always do but the stone goat was horrible.
It would not do as the other goats did. The stone horns on the stone goat
said that it was a male goat. They were great fearful horns but no matter
what the male goats did to the stone goat it just stood there. It would
not strut. It would not pronk. It said nothing. The male goats would tease
it and be as mean to it as they possibly could and the stone goat always
just stood still, head down and ready to fight. That was the only thing
the stone goat would do. Fighting. And then it didn't’t even fight
fair. It just waited and let the other goat do all the posing and yelling.
The stone goat wouldn't’t even snort. It just stood there. Poised and
ready to fight. Starting with the biggest and the boldest the male goats
would do their fighting dance and they would sing their fighting song and
then they would get way back and charge at the stone goat. Some of the goats
survived some didn't’t. The biggest best goats were the worst off.
They splattered their brains or broke off their horns at least. The lesser
goats would just charge and bounce off till they were dead. Only cowardly
goats that would not fight would survive and what female goat would mate
with a male goat that would not fight or had lost at fighting. None that’s
how many. The females would all stand around watching the stone goat kill
goat after goat and their goat hearts would sing with love for the stone
goat. All the female goats would cry and pose and rub the stone goat and
do you think the stone goat would mate with any of them. Not even once.
Not even one. Hundreds of years of the most beautiful goats and not once
did the stone goat so much as sniff one. Once the word got around the goat
world that the great stone goat could not be defeated or tempted all the
great fighting goats would travel far and wide to get their chance to fight
the stone goat. All the most beautiful females were sure that the great
stone goat would mate with them above all other female goats and so they
too made the long pilgrimage to visit the valley of the stone goat. This
went on for ages and all the best and biggest of the great goat people went
into the valley and died hammering themselves valiantly onto the unbreakable
horns of the stone goat. The once great race of goats eventually dwindled
and wandered and became the small and stupid things they are now.
The motto is don’t butt heads with a stone goat.
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