I'm not feeling it, but it's your business.
It might even be a mercy--
he won't have to see your Pinball Eyes across the dinner table anymore;
no more double jackpot bonus for obedience.
five bucks says you didn't consult your wife about this.
long flowing beards,
these are the kind of things you get
when women aren't part of the decision making.
Honey, if you have to choose between
dealing with God
or dealing with maternal fury,
God can collect His own coconuts, that's what I think.
And so now, my text, brother.
Don't fuck with my Goat.
Do you think I believe that shit story about the brambles?
Do you think that I think that he just rocketed on in there
like a meteor into somebody's living room?
Do you really believe in sacrifice by proxy?
Do you really think I won't hurt you if you touch my Goat?
Capricorns are a tricky business.
They mope, they brood, they suspect your motives,
and since your motives blow chunks, there you have it.
Isn't it handy
how your God ran a quickie shell game
and swapped kid for Goat, so to speak?
Kill the kid,
no don't, just kidding,
And all the while, you, with your knife raised
as if you were playing whack-a-mole with it.
I once visited the Three Bears.
I crashed there, they fed me this oatmealy crap.
All I ever heard was, don't mess with the furniture,
this is mine,
It was pretty dysfunctional, but there were no Divine commands,
no Pinball Eyes turned toward the heavens.
Here's how it's going to be:
I'm gonna take my Goat.
You're gonna chill the fuck out.
I'm gonna cougar your kid at the reading tonight
and make him shout hallelujah.
Thank you for holding.
Someone will be with you as soon as you pull your head out and put the knife down.
Go home to your wife.
Meditate on a new rubric.
Insert quarters, play again.
for Out Of Standard with Izy