Bob ran to the barn, muttering under his breath, "I'm late, I'm late, I'm really late!" The meeting was going to start without him! Finally making it, he shouted, "I'm so so so sorry I'm late!" Looking around, however, he discovered that, he was either so late that the meeting had already ended, or it hadn't started yet. How did he know it was one of these, you may ask? Well, first of all, there was no one there, and the Farmer, Jimmy, kept a clock on the wall, and, although Bob didn't quite know how to read it, his sister, Arwa, did. However, she was nowhere to be seen… except for maybe back at the goat shed. Darn, he thought. Guess I am early. Whoa. Talk about first time in forever.
Just then, Arwa and their twin brothers Gillis and Giles walked in the door. "Well," Arwa said, "Didn't expect to see you inside before I came in."
"Well, I thought it was earlier. Why are we doing this again?"
"Because we don't think The Farmer is getting us enough food!" the twins said, slightly out of tandem. "Darn. Almost had it that time." Gillis grumbled. "Almost." Their mother, Jaela, replied, having walked in with the rest of the other goats. "Nope! You'll never get it; it's impossible! At least, for you two." That would be their ornery grandmother, Cashmere, walking in just after her daughter. "Your great-uncles could do it, but that doesn't mean you can! You've been trying for years; almost like you think that if you keep doing it wrong, you'll do it right!"
"That is the definition of idiocy, butts. Maybe you should try not doing it at all? Or maybe just stick with finishing each other's sentences. That might work." Arwa was getting impatient now. "It's time to call the meeting to order! Stop wasting time!"
"Whatever floats your goat, Ar." this was said almost flippantly, like he like he didn't care, but you could tell he was ready to take over the farm if need be.
"Friends, it is time to call the meeting to order! Enough socializing! It's time to decide what to do!" Cashmere shouted. "Wandering around and talking isn't going to do anything!" All the hubbub died down, and Cashmere, the current oldest goat, meaning current leader of all goats. "We are going to take a vote! Who wants to take over the farm? Who wants to stay quiet? Who wants to run away? We're taking a vote, and the ballots are getting passed around now! Horn hole for the attack, hoofprint to run, and nose print to stay quiet! Pick one or the other. But think about the consequences of each! Less food for leaving, the same amount of food for being wimps and laying low, or enough food for assault! Choose! Or we attack at dawn in two days! And that is final!"
Coming down from the podium that Bob hadn't even noticed was there, or the fact that she was on it, Cashmere smirked. "Betcha the farmer has a pretty good stash of alcohol, hmm?