Saturday 21 July 2012

Chapter 2.5

“I hate goat’s milk, “ complained Billy. “Why can’t we have cows milk like normal people?”
 Billy’s mum glared at him. “We are goats, Billy. I can only produce one kind of milk.”
 Billy kicked at the ground moodily with his front right hoof. “Uncle Joe says he had cow’s milk when he was a kid.”
 Mother Goat sighed. “Uncle Joe and I were orphans, Billy. Cow’s milk was all Mr O’Bee could find.”
  “It’s not fair!” he whined.
 “Your brother doesn’t seem to mind," she retorted. "Besides, you’re not getting any milk at all until you tell me where you disappeared off to this morning.”
 “Nowhere,” Billy sulked.
 “Don’t lie to me, Billy,” his mother warned.
 “I’m not lying, mum," he asserted. "I just woke up in the field next to the woods. I don’t know how I got there.””
 “Billy!”
 By now, Billy was close to tears. “Mum, I swear! Ask Duke. He’ll tell you I was asleep when he found me.”
 Mrs Goat studied her son for a moment for signs of deceit. Seeing none, she softened. “OK, son. It’s OK. Now, have your breakfast.”
 She watched him as he butted her to get the milk flowing. What he had told her was true. Duke had found him asleep this morning. And Duke was not a sheepdog to lie. (Except when Mr O'Bee gave that strange two-tone whistle with the warble in the middle, but she didn't mean that kind of lying.) Besides, her maternal instincts told her that her son wasn’t telling porkies. The way he was drinking now, though, implied that he’d been for more than just a quick hike to the woods last night. Something strange was afoot. And not just Uncle Joe’s bunions.

Chapter 2.6 ☛

No comments:

Post a Comment