The pencil now resting the image was 'testing' for the creature before him, (his badly-drawn drawin') had come out 'not right' somewhat twisted and tight.
The picture in question, it burst with suggestion, for lines that seemed solid too often turned squalid. With unfinished thoughts (and poorly wrought wroughts) improperly shaded its features looked… jaded.
A goat yes indeed, but of curious breed. Not thin nor quite stout with a rodent-like snout its body was rhombus its neck jutted out plus … it felt all compacted (and aesthetic-redacted.) Yet it seemed self-aware (if, half-filled with despair,) and it spoke to its maker its erstwhile caretaker.
"I do not wish to complain or sound not-quite sane, but I feel not just wonky but curiously 'donkey' as if sketched in great haste or else horridly traced. I confess dismay and say (if I may,) I'm not quite up to snuff as if drawn off the cuff!"
But the man did not listen nor alter position yet showed no remorse that Goat looked sort of… 'horse'. He sat there, still staring, not listening, not caring.
So, Goat tried once more, to beg, treat and implore.
"Oh, prey doth excuse me oh perchance amuse me, but I feel all unfinished nay strangely diminished. One legs like a spindle while another doth dwindle away to a taper and blankness of paper! It just will not do can't you see I'm askew and (if, I may venture) my teeth look like denture!"
But the man did not mutter, nor offer a stutter yet flicked pencil shavings, ignoring Goat's ravings. He sat there, still staring, not listening, not caring.
So, Goat took the path to the source of his wrath
"If you could just go over (my erstwhile composer) this interminable gruff it's too rough it's too rough! My hooves don't feel cloven but solid and woven from febrile delight to 'do it not right. And it simply won't do that my ears are too few! For symmetry's sake, correct your mistake!"
But the man did not pander, nor rise to the candour yet sat there regarding Goat's savage bombarding. He sat there, still staring, not listening, not caring.
So, Goat now quite livid waxed pointedly vivid
"My head's misaligned, and it seems you assigned a tail that won't sway but just peters away! And yes, I'm frustrated I'm 'somewhat castrated' there's nothing 'down under' (and that's no minor blunder!) Such jaggedly curls and incongruous whirls might do for the masses but sir (you need glasses!)
But the man did not hasten nor appear to chasten yet stood up to stretch as Goat paused in mid kvetch.
(Now, eyes flared like saucers, and in a cadence like Chaucer's, this furious Goat did now empty its throat.)
"How potent the fancy but mayhap perchance thee, could redo my back it's too slack it's too slack! My horns should be swirly, not languid and curly (and my fleece? A delight! Not this zig-zaggy e!) I ask nay demand, was this tragedy planned?
But the artist was leaving his gut all a heaving, and pencils lay scattered as if none of this mattered. He walked off, not staring, not listening, not caring.
So, Goat stood as jury now bristling with fury!
"You drew me so poorly that now you must surely right what was wrong and redo this tongue! It drags at my hooves, it impedes my moves, and it needn't be said I can't say the word 'Fred!" (by which he meant thread, in his head, in his head).
But the man did not listen in now altered position yet paused at the door as if thinking once more. He stood there, not staring, not listening, not caring.
So, Goat blew his fuse and spat out fresh views.
"You brought me here you villainous seer, twas you that began this was you who did plan this! Why must I endure an existence so poor; why will you not mend me or simply befriend me? Do you have no regret was this done for a bet? Are you some kind of jester a madman's ancestor? Oh, tell me, sir, please oh grant me the keys to unlock this fetter. Just redraw me better!"
But the man was returning as if hearing Goat's yearning yet picked up no pencil (but grabbed a utensil.) He sat there not staring but thinking and caring to peel back the veil and rub out Goat's tail!
"You er, you swine! You redraw that line! I crave alteration, not wanton ablation! Smooth out the kinks, undo the jinks, make me feel pretty-svelte-charming and witty! And prey do not skimp, your scurrilous imp on the crinkly parts at the heart of fine arts!"
But the man was deleting, the image retreating yet now bifurcated as rubber rotated. He sat there, not staring but shrinking and wearing.
So, Goat in a panic waxed lyrically manic
"Now, let's not be hasty, yea mayhap I basely accused of thee of crimes in part-scurrilous rhymes. Offence, well I meant none so stop, lest I 'be gone' what your doings unlawful what you're doing is awful! I feel sort of lost, a line you have crossed, you've left me bereft of all that was stage left."
But the man was not finished with Goat's sorely diminished entire back portions (now mere smeared distortions). He sat there, not staring, not thinking, not caring.
So, Goat now flipped over and said (through the clover)
"A pause for effect? Must I now walk erect? The problem of facing this half-assed debasing. This criminal scheme, this heart-chilling dream. Must I now be two-legged with face all but wedded to this whiteness of ground, oh to be so earthbound? My legs are like needle (I lean quadrupedal) and now I lack carriage this angle… doth disparage!”
But the man then did finish that most final diminish yet now disassembled Goat savagely trembled. He sat there, not staring, not thinking, not caring.
So, Goat now so fearful let out one last earful
"I'm now just a head yet not dead, not yet dead! No legs left for stumbles no lungs to aid grumbles I cannot now canter I'm left with mere banter! I see now my folly, I regret my volley once safe and secure now soon, I'm no…”
But the man had now ended Goat was now amended yet nothing endured so Goat's problem was… Cured.
He sat there, not staring, not thinking, not caring.
The ineffable bore of a goat now no more.
Copyright © Ian Jackson | Year Posted 2021