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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The purple on his chin was tellin' there was just no use to lie. That pesky, good for nothin' goat had eaten Mother's pie. She had set it on the porch jist to cool it down a bit, and don't you know that goat had come and calmly eaten it. My little brother looked as if he was inclined to cry. They'd warned him things would have to change or Billy Goat would die. I got a rag to help him scrub that bright dye off his whisker. He could appeal to Mom's good side, but didn't want to risk her. That goat had climbed on everythin' from our new car to house. He'd eaten nightshirts off the line. No wonder Mom would grouse. I'll kill that goat", our mother said a dozen time or so. Of course she didn't mean it but our brother didn't know. Now little brother'd come along when most of us were growed. He never seem to learn the ways the rest of us all knowed. He didn't learn to work around our mama's laws and such. He had no wiles to pertect him. His goat was sure in dutch. Bein' so much younger must be tough and not too easy sailin'. His best friend was this pesky goat and that was fast a failin'. He guessed the only way to go was take his goat and run. He didn't think to take a coat and weinies and a bun. The rest of us when we run off, we knowed enough to take some warm clothes and some sandwitches 'n even choclit cake. We were all scared when brother didn't turn up for a meal and we could see the worry our mama began to feel. So Daddy got his good horse Dan and took the dogs along, and said he'd just go scout him out; be sure nothin' was wrong. It seemed a good long time before we saw Dad ridin' back with somethin' on his saddle. It looked much like a sack. But it was our little brother and he was sound asleep. Dad found him in the orchard with apples in a heap. His cunnin' goat had climbed up in the ole apple tree and flung down the ripe apples, as nimble as can be. So brother wasn' hungry but he was mighty weary. Our mother grabbed him in her arms and all of us were teary. That wily goat was smart enough to prove himself a winner. He'd saved our brother and himself from becoming our goat dinner. By: Joyce Johnson
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