The Christmas Goat

The mall was packed with strung out shoppers. Amy and Grace sat ‘A Tale of Two Blends’ coffee hut in the center of the action.

“I bought a goat from one of those charity organizations,” said Amy. She took a sip of her mocha latté.

“From an NGO,” said Grace.

“No. I think it was ‘Feed the Homeless’ or something.”

Grace shook her head. “NGO stands for non-government organization. ‘Feed the Homeless’ is one. So is ‘Bread of the Children’. Get it?”

Amy thought hard for a second. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t know why governments would want to sell goats. I don’t even think they have any goat farms, do they? It’s very confusing. I don’t really care who I buy it from just as long as I get mine before Christmas,” said Amy.

“You realize you didn’t actually buy a goat for yourself, right?”

Amy laughed. “Of course I did. It’s in the catalogue. It had a picture and everything. You’re so silly.”

Grace slowly set her coffee down and set her hands on the table. “Amy, if you read the catalogue carefully, you’d see that you bought a goat for some needy family in Africa or whatever.”

Amy’s eyes grew wide. “What do needy people need with a goat? They’re hungry. They need food.” Her shook turned to horror. “They’re not going to eat my goat!”

Several shoppers gave Amy a look as they passed. Grace blushed and nodded apologetically.

“Not right away,” explained Grace. “Goats provide milk and cheese and stuff like that. I’m sure a goat’s more valuable alive than dead.”

“It better be,” said Amy, crossing her arms in disgust.

“Wait a second. Why do you want a goat?”

Amy bounced in her seat. “You’ll love this. It’s so cool. I was watching ‘House Hunters’ on TV and this couple wanted a house with a big backyard because they wanted to start an urban farm. They bought chickens and everything,” said Amy in one breath.

Grace was about to speak, then paused. “You live in a condo.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Hello, community garden. It’s practically the same thing.”

Grace watched as Amy sipped her latté. “I have so many questions, I don’t know what to say,” said Grace.

“I think that’s how most people react when confronted with brilliance,” said Amy. “Oh, look at the time. Gotta run. Tootles, Gracie. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Amy,” said Grace, still dumbfounded. “And God help us, everyone.”

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About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in Christmas, fiction, flash fiction, goat, humor, humour, NGO, short fiction, short story, story and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Christmas Goat

  1. Well, I love the Amy-ies of the world!! Great story.

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