"Hi. I'm the Goat."
I like the Goat plenty myself. I like the Goat regular. Regular Goat, that's what I like. I'm a simple girl. Hence you can imagine my dismay when the Goat came home after a routine check-up and I found this.
See that bare spot in the center of his chest? What you have there is a shaved Goat. I don't want any shaved Goat. I understand that the doc had to put stickers on my Goat in order to check out his ticker and all, but I don't have to like it. When I rub my boobies on my Goat, I want nice warm goat fur, not some lousy razor stubble.
I wonder if there's something I could feed my Goat that would make his fur grow back faster than normal--not that I have any idea how fast his fur grows usually. A regular person doesn't regularly keep track of their Goat's fur growth. It's something a regular person takes for granted.
I guess that's the point of it. You don't realize how much you love something until it's gone. Every time I've gone to rub my boobies on the Goat's fur, the fur has been there to rub. Now that it's AWOL, here I am, pining after goat fur.
Looks like I'm going to have to find another fur patch on my Goat to rub until the regular fur grows back.
"Come 'ere, Goat."
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