Goat Girl

By Diana Grove
    

Setting:  Crummy Chicago diner
Weather Conditions:  Crummy, with a chance of freezing rain

Characters:  Ferguson- a loud, high-energy guy who’s slightly
                                      jumpy and wild-eyed.
                    Shutz- a bit slow, not necessarily the sharpest hair
                                on the hog.

_______________________________________________________

Shutz (sitting alone in booth pouring sugar into a glass of water, studying it with great interest)
 
Ferguson (rushes in and plops down across from Shutz, out of breath)

Ferguson:  "You would not believe the shit I’ve just been through Shutz, crazy, fuckin’ shit man."

Shutz:  "Shit, what shit dude?"

F:  "Crazy, motherfuckin’ shit, is what I’m sayin’."

S:  "OOOhhhhh, with that girl, huh?"

F:  "Crazy, motherfuckin’ weird shit man.  Crazy like flyin’ squirells and three-eyed babies."

S:  "So what…what?"

F:  "Check it out, last night I had this date with this girl, Carrie, the girl I met at Tim’s burrito party?  So anyway, she tells me to meet her at her house which is way the fuck out in Polish town, you know, where your Mom buys kishkes and those cheap-ass house tents that she wears?"

S:  "Hey, fuck you."

F:  "No, fuck you.  Anyway, the whole thing started off for shit, because before I left, I ate a Abu’s, I think he actually served me some kind of a corpse in white sauce or something because my whole mouth tasted like fuckin’ embalming fluid all night."

S:  "Embalming fluid?"

F:  "Yeah, I also spilled Coke all over my lucky blue pants so I had to change into these weird-ass black pants that are made out of visquine or some such shit.  But it’s all I could find - these weird-ass, slippery black pants."

S:  "Bet you were lookin’ smooth dude."

F:  "Anyway, I get to her house and she invites me in.  This place is like some kind of freakshow.  Religious pictures and candles and fuckin' poodle turds everywhere."

S:  "Dog shit, really?"

F:  "I don’t know, maybe. I couldn’t really tell, maybe they were tootsie rolls or batteries or something.  But the place smelled weird.  You know?  Weird like moth balls or flood residue."

S:  "Flood residue?"

F:  "Yeah, you know, like musty from a basement flood or something.  Anyway, she has me sit on this couch.  Get this- an orange, vinyl couch like something from the dentist.  So I’m sitting there and every time I move, my fuckin’ visquine pants make these farting noises.  I laugh it off and everything, but still I’m feeling really uncomfortable ‘cause my fuckin’ breath is still tasting like a dead cat, and she’s got the heater jacked up to about 140.  Which I thought may actually work to my advantage.  Cause she’s wearing
this tight sweater that I just knew I had to get off of ‘er.  And she was lookin’ fuckin’ hot."

S:  "What color was it?"

F:  "What?"

S:  "The sweater, what color was it?"

F:  "How the fuck should I know!  All I know is that it was tight and it had about a million buttons going up the front.  She was getting all sexed up to, I could tell, cause she started makin’ moves on me and all.  But I still had this breath, so I figured if I just breath out of my nose, I’d be OK."

S:  "Yeah, I breath out of my nose a lot, come to think of it."

F:  "Yeah, whatever.  Anyway, I’m kissing her with my mouth closed for a while, then I start undoing all of those buttons, and I mean there are a million of them, and by the time I get up to about number 52 she tells me there’s a zipper in back."

S:  "A zipper?  Like a regular zipper?"

F:  "Yeah, fucking insane.  What kind of sick, twisted fuck would design a sweater like that?  A million buttons in front to drive you nuts and then put a zipper in back as if to say “ha ha, you stupid dumb fuck, you could be in her pants by now if you weren’t so obsessed with buttons!"

S:  "Dude, you are kind of a moron sometimes."

F:  "Shut the fuck up, you weren’t there.  This is just the beginning.  So, I’m feeling her up and all, and right in the middle she stops me and says she has to tell me something.  And I’m thinking shit, this is where she tells me I can’t go below the neck or something, because her Uncle Charlie touched her in “the bad place” when she was a kid or some such shit.  So, anyway, she says 'I have to tell you something before you kiss me…I have overly developed taste buds.'”

S:  "What the fuck dude!?"

F:  "I know, I know, she said her doctor said that because she has such huge taste buds, if anyone ever kissed her, it would be like kissing a goat."

S:  "Whooooah…"

F:  "And I’m thinking, how would a doctor know what it’s like to kiss a goat anyway?  But then I remember, I had this friend in high school who licked a cat once, and he ended up becoming a doctor.  So maybe they’re just curious about the natural world or something?"

S:  "Eeeww, I bet they’re gamy…goats."

F:  "But listen, I’ve got her top off and everything, but now I’m afraid to kiss her ‘cause she’s got this goat tongue.  But I’m trying to be smooth and polite and all so I kiss her neck instead.  Except every time I close my eyes, I see her having this big, hairy goat head.  And by now it’s really fuckin’ hot in there and I’m sweatin’ a river."

S:  "Yeah, sweatin’ to the oldies, man."

F:  "If this isn’t bad enough, she’s got this picture of Jesus on the wall.  You know, the one where he kind of looks like a girl, and he’s lookin’ off into the distance at some flowers or some kittens or shit?" 

S:  "Yeah, Yeah."

F:  "But in this picture, I swear to fuckin’ God he’s lookin’ right at me.  Directly.  No matter which way I move, He’s right there!"

S:  "That’s some fuckin’ weird shit man."

F:  "Yeah, so I’ve got Goat Girl on the dental couch and even my eyebrows are sweating and Jesus is looking down at me all girl-like and mad, and then what happens?"

S:  "What?"

F:  "My fucking visquine pants slip right the fuck off the couch and I hit my head on the coffee table."

S:  "Shit, man."

F:  "So loud too.  And I knocked a bunch of Skittles into the fish tank.  Who the fuck knows what it was doing on the floor anyway?"

S:  "Shit dude, did it turn the water red?"

F:  "I didn’t have time to check cause this old man comes fuckin’ tottering out of the bedroom wearing dirty boxers, and he had this caved in chest and he wasn’t wearing his teeth and he yells 'What in Hell is going on out there!!'”

S:  "Oooohhh, busted dude."

F:  "It must have been her Grandpa, but he fuckin’ looked like Death on a Cracker man, all gray and spindly and smellin’ like coffin farts."

S:  "Coffin farts?"

F:  "You know, when you’re all dead and you fart in a coffin dumbass.  So anyway, this guy scares the livin’ shit out of me so bad that I jump up and say “I’m just here to the deliver the pizza sir.”  And I leave Goat Girl topless on the couch and I run out the door.  But guess what?  I forget my lucky green hat.  I’m standing outside on the front steps and my lucky green hat is inside with Goat Girl and Death Boy."

S:  "Shit man, you love that hat."

F:  "I know, that’s my lucky green hat.  Chicks dig that hat.  I got Sheila with that hat."

S:  "Yeah… Sheila."

F:  "So, I just left it there.  I’ll probably never get another fuckin’ date again.  Goat Girl’s probably wearin’ it right now.  Dancing on my Mother’s grave, howling at the moon.  Can you imagine…a goat’s tongue?  That’s some weird shit man."

S:  "That’s some seriously weird shit man."

 (Shutz starts pouring sugar into his water again, studying it
           closely)