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Horatio Valor-Goat



Horatio Valor-Goat brakked and maahed in fine form, spiked whiskers thrusting violently from his chin. He pranced and danced, and giggled and whuffled, and as nearly as a goat can chirp, he chirped.

"Am I not just the neatest thing?" he demanded politely of Richard Wobble-Goat. Richard distractedly lifted a clumsy cloven hoof to his stiff, matted, itchy abdomen. "And I salute you, too, Richard Wobble-Goat!" cried Horatio, performing a small four-step in his own honor.

"Ellen Steam-Goat! Am I not the most bodacious stud you've ever seen?" Ellen Steam-Goat pulled her thin lips tight, lifted her small tail, and pooped. "Ah, my love, my love - so that a flower may grow in my honor!" Horatio, tenoresque basso-profundo, tremoloed. Virile, he jumped over a downed tree and back again.

Hopping stiff-legged through the lolling grass, he burped, "Erica Haffa-Goat! Remember - that dog, that dog, and I poked him with my horns, and ki-yi-yi, he ran?! Hooray for me!" Erica scanned the horizon, ignoring him, and Horatio leapt for the sheer joy of being in his own skin.

"Can you think of any Valor-Goat other than Horatio, Perry Jimmy-Goat?" Horatio groppled as Perry rubbed his gums on a fence-post. "I think not!" Horatio aied, bobbling foot-to-foot.

"I, the standard to which one aspires, Velour Waist-Goat!" gleamed Horatio, half-galloping-part-skipping as Velour stood stiffly. "A statue erected to my honor!" Horatio warble-trilled.

"Watch this! Look at me, all!" he cried, as he leapt from a great height.

Everybody's ears briefly turned as a distant wet splut wafted up from the chasm-bottom.


(AUTHOR UNKOWN)