Disco-Goat

Well, my friends, I have not written for like two weeks. This is because I am rather lazy and forgetful sometimes, so I never really got around to it. Since way too much happened during that time period, I will naturally just tell a story about a billygoat instead of summing up the weeks.

Disco-Goat

Once upon a time in the late 1970's, there was a billygoat named Karpi-punto. As you may be able to guess, he was very embarrassed by this rather atrocious name, so he just went by Karp. Now obviously he wasn't your ordinary billygoat, or this story would mainly be about him eating grass and kicking miscellaneous objects while producing rather putrid milk and cheese. Instead, this billygoat had an important mission, given to him by all sane residents of the world. And what was this mission, you may ask? Destroy disco. Anyplace that played disco, anyone that sang disco, even anyone that remotely liked disco. They all had to go.

Now why the heck would a billygoat be put in charge of this most important of tasks? Again, this was no ordinary billygoat. He was bred for a single purpose-to put an end to the most atrocious sounds to ever defile our world. His horns were sound conductors, genetically enhanced to gather and destroy any form of disco within two square miles. He could smell the slightest appreciation for the genre from any point within the same continent, and his very presence was enough to make a lethal virus out of the frequency of disco radio station waves. This was a goat to be reckoned with.

Finally, President Jimmy Carter had had enough of his country slowly rotting from the "Disco Pandemic" (On a sidenote, "disco pandemic" can be rearranged to spell "End Acidic Mops," which is probably a good idea because honestly, who wants an acidic mop? No one. That's who. That's just asking for a ruined floor.) After a long and hard-fought battle with congress over the ethicacy of his plan, he eventually gained permission to unleash the ultimate weapon. He immediately grabbed the phone and dialed for the secret agent only known as "Farmer Mordecai," the man responsible for the special breeding and training of this goat.

"Begin operation DG immediately," he calmly said, and with those four words started the most morally justified war in history.

The first reported incident occured somewhere in Mesa, Arizona. The police received the following 911 distress call.

"Dude, we were totally groovin to some Bee Gees and this goat flew in, man! We were like, 'Whoa! Dude! That goat's totally gonna groove with us!' But then he didn't! At first I thought it was just somethin cuz i was high, you know? Like the discoball was going crazy and wacko colors were flying into the goat's horns, but then my buddy Steve was like, 'dude, I'm sober, and there's a flying goat!' And then I was like, 'No way!' and he's like, 'Yes way!' and then the music stopped, and now the goat's kicking people all over the place! And now he's flying this way! Since when do goats fly, dude!? AIEEEEEEEEEE!"

TO BE CONTINUED.

Yeah. Guys, I'm really tired. I have no idea what possessed me to write that. But heck, I'll probably finish it tomorrow since I have nothing better to do. Enjoy life, and don't eat too many hamsters.