Who Ya' Gonna' Call?

Oy. The power went out again today. Mind you it wasn't out very long, but when it went out I could hear the goatmother yelling, 'Oh, No! Not again!', all that way out to the barn. It was only a little breezy. It wasn't even a major breeze.

The first thing that occurred to the goatmother was that Boo had somehow managed to get out and bribe the power company. You see, today had been deemed monthly hoof trimming day. In light of that, I can well understand how the goatmother might have come to that conclusion. However, it pains me to say, at least this time, Boo was not responsible.

The thing is, here I am the world's first psychic goat and no one bothered to inquire as to whether or not I knew what the problem was. If they had only asked (and perhaps offered a Peanut for my efforts) I would have told them that it was merely the power company working on the lines. I knew. But no...no one has faith in the humble but exceedingly beautiful psychic mini-Nubian.

Perhaps I need to advertise. You know, magazines like Cosmo, GQ, Vogue and 'O', that one that Oprah puts out - all those magazines frequently read by goats in the know. Maybe Martha Stewart. Or maybe I should just consult the Woolly Boogers. Everyone believes the Woolly Boogers. It is difficult to understand, however. They're just worms, for goats' sake! No, indeed, people just have some misbegoatten ideas when it comes to who is to be believed. You think not? I ask you, consider for one moment the state of our political realm. 'Nuf said. Psychic goat, over and out.