The Goat Man's Easter
by Santos Mendoza
While it was still only midwinter, the Goat Man was asked to compose some music for Easter. The Goat Man and his goat visitor, who had come to ask him to undertake the composition, shivered violantly under their winter goat suits. As long as winter lasted, the Goat Man was quite miserable, because he was but a poor goat man and could not afford a heater.
“We, the Goat Men’s Senate,” began the Goat Man’s visitor, unloosening the fastener at his collar so as to allow him to speak more freely, “every year must single out one goat, blessed with prodigious musical talent, to compose music in honor of our Most Holy Patron, the Goat Saint. This music will hence be performed on Easter Day. This year, happily, you have been chosen.”
“Oh, I see,” said the Goat Man.
“This year especially, it being the 2014th anniversary of His passing, we desire particularly splendid music, befitting to this sacred event,” he concluded.
“I see, I see,” said the Goat Man, scratching his ears.
“Easter is still four and a half months away,” he thought to himself. “With that much time, I can certainly compose some magnificent goat music.”
“I’ll be happy to do it. You can count on me,” he replied, his chest swelling with pride. “I’ll certainly do my best to write excellent goat music.
January, Febuary and March quickly became a lost memory, and still the Goat Man hadn’t been able to begin the music requested by the Goat Men’s Council. Because the Goat Man worked in the neighborhood bakery, he had very little time to devote to the composition. Furthermore, whenever he sat to play his raggedy old organ, the wife of the landlord would inevitably march up the twisted staircase and rap on his door.
“Cut that noise out! I can scarcely hear the television.”
“I’m terribly sorry, but since I have to have this music done by Easter, I beg of you to put up with me a bit longer?” the Goat Man said meekly.
“What a moronic thing to say,”...