Rich and the Goat (Guest Author)

As mentioned in the title, this is a guest post. Credit to Glynnis.

"Goats. Picture it," said Rich. "Don't they need elevators, too?" Billy eyed Rich, his horizontal pupils unnerving. "Bahhhh" Billy bleated. matter-of-factly. 

"That's a good point, but I genuinely feel it lacks any sort of nuance." Rich hovered over the blueprints sprawled on the table. "Do you think we could charge a fee? We gotta recoup the costs somewhere, the insurance company really has us by the... horns," Rich remarked, dryly. 

"BEHHHHH!" shouted Billy, angry launching his Smith & Wesson on the formica counter, released from his cloven hoof. He was frustrated with the endless bureaucracy. The Kafka-esque red tape, unending phone chains, and constant greasing of the wheels for simple permits and licences. Billy snorted in disgust, lifted his tufted tail, and deposited a load on the rug.

"You need more fiber, my friend. You want a scoop of Metamucil in your...Wait, what is it that you're drinking?" Rich gestured to Billy's mug, then picked up the beer bottle to inspect it. "Billy Beer? I thought they stopped making this shit after the Carter administration?"

"Beh-eh-eh-eh," explained Billy. "That's right, I forgot about your diplomatic back-channels. What was it like working with Cheyney?" inquired Rich.

"Ehhhhh" replied Billy, rolling his ochre eyes. Billy fumbled in his bag, extracted a Marlboro Red, and carefully lit the end. Biden had outlawed his favorite Menthols, so his inhalation was shaky and irritated. Billy tapped a bifurcated hoof on a drainage tunnel, giving a knowing glance to Rich.

"You noticed that too, huh? I figure we could cough up some extra 'play money' by paying tribute to the Sinaloa cartel- they can have an avenue to move their own shit around. Call it... diplomacy," chuckled Rich. Billy took a slow drag on his stale cigarette, and sneezed abruptly in frustration. Rich nodded in agreement. "If we can pull this damn project off, my friend, you'll have no problem providing for your kids. I know how shitty your 401k has gone- believe me, pensions are a thing of the past now."

Suddenly, the door was split horizontally, daylight slicing through the dark smoky room. "OPEN UP! POLICE!" 

Rich and Billy exchanged horrified looks; Billy's wide eyes darted to the pistol on the counter. Rich shook his head slowly, a silent "NO" escaping from his wretched face, as Billy reached over to pick up the gun. He produced a large magazine from his London Fog camel trenchcoat.

"Beh-eh-eh-eh" he said quietly, loaded up a round, cocked the hammer, and unloaded the magazine.