girls be like “i know a place” and then take you to the goat tower
*Here’s a little exchange that popped into my head when I saw this. Ridiculous as usual - hope you enjoy!*
Michelle glanced up from the laundry basket as the front door flew open, her mouth curving at Robert’s infectious sideways grin. Half vexed and half silly. Something was definitely afoot.
“Belle! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere!” he admonished, catching his breath.
She dropped a folded jersey on the sofa beside his “lucky socks,” what remained of them, anyway, as he refused to wear any other pair while on the field. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“It’s done! Complete! Finito!” Robert added, dragging out the last syllable as he took a generous bow. He froze mid-stride. “Hey, are those my lucky socks?” He squinted. “They are, aren’t they? Make sure you put them in the left hand upper drawer of the-”
“I’m aware, Robert. This isn’t my first rodeo with these scraps of cotton you call apparel.”
“They’re very important, you know. We came close to winning yesterday. If it hadn’t been for my sartorial prowess, we would’ve been slaughtered.” Robert snatched up the socks, holding them close to his chest. “You can never be too careful. Football is a particularly fickle sport, and not just a little superstitious. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, it’s a-”
“I’ll take these. Thank you.” Michelle snatched them back, tossing them onto the jersey. “You were saying you finished something?”
“Something?” he repeated, frowning. “It’s not just something. It’s a feat of engineering. An absolute marvel of planning and execution. In fact, I’m rather positive there’s nothing else like it in all of Wales. Perhaps even England.” The singer tapped his chin. “Well, maybe not the entirety of the land but certainly the-”
“Are you talking about the goat barn? I didn’t know barns needed goats.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “They don’t, woman. Goats need barns.”
Michelle shrugged. “Whatever. You know what I meant. And goats don’t need barns.”
With an exaggerated sigh, he sidled next to her. “It’s not just a barn. It’s a …” he trailed off, foraging for the perfect word. “It’s a monument,” he pronounced, nodding contentedly.
“A monument. Of course.” Her brow lifted. “You built the goats a monument?”
He opened his mouth to reply, nibbling his lip instead. “You’ve got to see it to believe it.”
Michelle hesitated, nearly not verbalizing the question for fear of the answer. “And where exactly is said monument?”
“Not far. The Rover’s right outside. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Michelle squelched her snort. A few minutes in Robert time was likely at least thirty, probably an hour. His expectant pout won her over. “Alright, let’s go see this technological miracle.”
Robert looped her arm in his. “Well, I didn’t say miracle, exactly,” he mumbled, leading her to the front door.
Michelle grasped for anything she could find as Robert tore down the pitted dirt path. To where, she’d no clue, but she intended to arrive at least somewhat intact. Splashes of summer green whizzed by, and thorny limbs clawed the sides of the truck as they bounced and swerved between the brush. She had the sudden and most unwelcome vision of the forest coming alive, swallowing them whole. Good God, I’ve got to stay out of Robert’s library. The reverie vanished as the Rover spun to a halt, practically throwing her against the dashboard. She steadied herself, her heart pounding as Robert let loose a resounding whoop, grinning like the Cheshire Lion-Cat that he was.
“Bloody hell, that was fun, yeah?”
Michelle cut her eyes at him, doing her best to temper the smile that was beating down the door to grace her face. As usual, she lost the battle. If his grin were a devastating virus, the whole damned world might well be doomed. Collecting her wits, she inspected the clearing. And the monstrous tower plopped clean in the middle of it. What the hell? She could feel his gaze burning through her as she pored over the long grass and wildflowers surrounding it. He was feeling her out, without a doubt waiting for a gush of giddy approval. Her mind swirled as she appraised the, well, structure, desperately searching for an acceptable turn of phrase. She supposed she’d call it a turret, if the ground had been replaced by a castle. As it stood, though, she wasn’t quite sure. That’s when she heard it. The dreaded bleat. Her eyes widened, flickering across the spiral landing that enveloped it while little white horn laden heads peaked out of the arched doorways. The click of hooves resonated through the field as she and Robert were apparently deemed harmless enough for the residents to return to their sunbathing. Michelle barked a laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You built a … a goat house?”
Robert sighed indignantly. “Christ, it’s not simply a goat house, Michelle. I’d say it’s more of a flat. Yes, a flat. Goat flat has a much better ring to it. Don’t you agree?” The singer paused, pursing his lips. “Or rather, a commune. That’s it, definitely a commune.”
Michelle’s shoulders shook as she gazed at the “commune” then back to Robert. “A goat commune. Right.”
“Isn’t it fantastic? Now they’ve protection, a haven to go to when it storms, or when it’s cold, or when the-”
“I imagine it’s far superior to our haven.” Michelle smiled, recalling visions of his beloved “pets” wandering aimlessly throughout the living room and assorted other areas. She folded her arm into his. “It’s lovely, just … lovely.”
Robert puffed up his chest. “I knew you’d like it. You actually came around far more quickly than I thought you would.”
“So, you built this?” she asked, his silence spawning suspicion. “By yourself?”
“For the most part.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose Bonzo helped a bit here and there, but not much.”
“Not much? Bollocks!”
The drummer’s voice rang out behind them, and they swiftly swiveled about. Robert held up his hands. “What I was saying was-”
“You bloody git. I do all the work with my brother and the lads at the pub, and you take all the credit?”
Robert’s tongue swiped the line of his lips. “I was going to tell her, but-”
“But what, you fuckin’ prat?”
The singer surveyed the landscape. “Where did you even come from, Bonz?”
Bonzo crossed his arms. “Don’t you worry about that.” He slowly lumbered toward his friend as menacingly as he could manage. “I should take this bloody thing down brick by brick. You and your bloody goats.”
Robert stumbled backwards, glancing longingly at Michelle. The smirk she offered him wasn’t the solace he’d hoped for. “Wait, mate. It’s not that I was, ah, going to take all the credit.”
“Yeah? Really?” The drummer quickened his pace. “That’s not what I heard.”
Robert followed suit, quickening his own. “It was my idea, though. Um, initially, I mean, and, uh-”
“Tell it to the goats,” Bonzo bellowed, now in a full on sprint. “You might be spendin’ more time with ‘em than you thought.” He closed the gap as the singer scampered away.
