Alternative Lifestyles

(I kind of hit the wall this week, so you get what you get.)

“Oh jeez. Ted, is that you?”

“Hey, Stu. What are you doing up here?”

“Looking for you. So that’s what happened to the goat hide. Conrad said it was missing from the lodge. Dog, if you want to sniff goat, they’ve got colognes for that. Or candles. My girlfriend has this incense burner—”

“You don’t get it, Stu. This is me, the real me, as I really am. This is what I was meant to be.”

“Naked and wrapped in a goat hide?”

“A goat, Stu. I’ve always known it. I’m a goat trapped in a wolf’s body.”

“Scat, not this again. You found that human’s still, didn’t you?”

“I was born a goat. My sign is Capricorn. It’s fate.”

“It’s you being a complete and total asshat. Tell me you’re hunting that herd over there and not really trying to join them.”

“They won’t let me get too close. We’re just getting used to each other. Yeah, okay, I’m kind of stalking that straggler there. I figured out I can’t go goat all at once. I kind of have to ease into it. They say if you eat an animal you take on its characteristics.”

“Then you must have had squirrel for breakfast, because you’re nuts.”

“No, I had a groundhog. Look, he’s been falling behind the herd all day. I figure I’ll put him out of his misery, spend a couple days absorbing his goatiness, and by Thursday—”

“Uh, Ted? Your goat’s got a rifle.”

“Wha?”

“Okay, you, hold it right there. What the hell? Are you wearing a goat suit too?”

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I just wanted to get close to the herd.”

“Yeah, me too. Hunting season starts next week. I wanted to scout the territory and learn their habits. I know this looks a little nutty, but it used to work for the Indians. Are you two hunters? You from around here?”

“Oh, yeah. Us and our pack—that is, our lodge, we hunt up here all the time. Ted, keep your mouth shut. He’s a human.”

“So eating him’s out of the question?”

“Yeah, I’d say so. Look, man, it’ll be getting dark soon. These cliffs can be treacherous to run around on in the dark. I came up here after my brother. We can’t leave you out here by yourself. Why not come on back to the lodge with us? We’ll have a couple of brewskies and I’ll tell you where the best game is.”

“Well … I don’t know … ”

“Me either, Stu. What’s up with you?”

“The pack’s what’s up. They’re out here and they found your trail. How bad do you really want to be a goat, Ted?”

“Um … not that bad.”

“I didn’t think so. Now imagine if they found some monkey in a goat suit with a rifle traipsing around on our turf. What do you think would happen?”

“Hancock would hand us our tails for breakfast?”

“Dipped in maple syrup. So what about it, mister? What do you say?”

“Beer sounds good. This thing’s damn heavy and it smells like shit. I don’t know what I was thinking. What was that? Are those wolves?”

“No. No wolves, not around here. It’s dogs or hippies or something. C’mon, we better shag it if we want to get off this mountain before it gets dark. Ted, just leave that here. I’ll tell Conrad the puppies tore it up.”

“Thanks, bro. I love you, dog.”

“You hump my leg and I’ll rip your throat out. Hey, mister, you want to keep that gun pointed somewhere else? Yeah, that’s better. Don’t worry about all that howling. It’s dogs or whatever. They do it all the time.”

# # #

Up on the cliff face, two bearded mountain goats watched the werewolf and the two in the goatskins depart. The howls had veered off in another direction, so the pack posed no threat for the moment. The one billy turned to the other and went, “Baaahhhhhh.”

Translation: That’s it. We’re ordering grenades.