It was a nice spring day; I could smell the moist grass and was enjoying the cool shade under my bridge. Everything was going great; until this one goat had to start stomping over my bridge like it was some sort of game. I had to get out of my comfortable position and go up to see what this goat wanted. I politely asked him what he was doing and he said to me, in his arrogant little goat voice, that he wanted to eat up all the grass on my side of the bridge. Now, the one thing I can not stand is when natural resources are wasted, the goat was pretty chubby and obviously had a fine food source, what did he need my grass for? Now, if that was the only thing I would have given him a handful of grass and told him to go away; except this wasn't just any grass, this was endangered grass we are talking about. If I let this goat come in, sooner or later he was going to invite some of his friends and they were all going to stomp over my bridge and eat all the grass. A few months later the goats would have overgrazed my land and then there would be the acid rain, species going extinct, and mud slides. What did these goats want to do? Drive down the real estate value?
After taking a moment thinking about this I decided to just scare the little fellow away, I yelled at him in my big scary voice that I was going to eat him up. The little goat definitely over reacted, talking about how he wasn't that good tasting and he knew a bigger, tastier goat was coming. I let the goat off the hook and told him to scram. The whole situation calmed down again and I went back to my nap. In a few hours a second goat came and we went through the same routine, it was pretty boring and if I had lived longer I was going to have to buy myself one of those no trespassing signs. I was about to go back to sleep when I heard yet another goat jumping up and down on my bridge. This was when the trouble started.
Every thing went how it had before, until we hit the whole me eating him part. He flipped out, but unlike the others he didn't back off, he had to pull out a weapon. Where did the goat get a weapon? I mean, you don't find many sporting goods stores in the middle of the woods. And how did he even balance only using three legs? Right, so the goat was threatening me with a weapon, I was about to tell him to calm down and explain the whole situation, I was even going to tell him about the field a few miles to the east with grass the goats could eat. Before I could even get a word out he charged me, and that's when it happened, one of the biggest conspiracies throughout history. A murder concealed as a fight against evil. Well, even though I was pretty frustrated about the whole event for a few hundred years, especially when some man wrote it down, totally bad mouthing me, and becoming famous for it; I at least got some consolation. In the end everything I had predicated happened, the goats ate up all the grass, and then in a big acid rain storm there was a huge mudslide and almost all the goats died. Isn't that just a happy ending?