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776

Heh. Got your attention huh? Too bad the story isn't as good as the title.

I milk my goat every 12 hours. It usually gets to where I end up milking around 10pm-12am due to other shit getting priority.

Anyway, as I was putting her away tonight, I accidentally let the chain that holds the gate closed go, and in the very moment that I reached down to grab it, 4 of my other goats decided to jump up on the gate to slam it right into my face.

I'm pretty sure I heard snickering as I held my semi numb, semi hot feeling face, trudging back to the house.

I told my husband I was going to tell everyone he beats me :3. It'll be funny (everyone knows he doesn't... not too long ago he got to tell people I beat him from his scope's cushion randomly coming off as he fired a shot and had a black eye and scratches between his eyes. That was a good one. The beaver that didn't get away didn't laugh.).

Heh. Got your attention huh? Too bad the story isn't as good as the title. I milk my goat every 12 hours. It usually gets to where I end up milking around 10pm-12am due to other shit getting priority. Anyway, as I was putting her away tonight, I accidentally let the chain that holds the gate closed go, and *in the very moment* that I reached down to grab it, 4 of my other goats decided to jump up on the gate to slam it right into my face. I'm pretty sure I heard snickering as I held my semi numb, semi hot feeling face, trudging back to the house. I told my husband I was going to tell everyone he beats me :3. It'll be funny (everyone knows he doesn't... not too long ago he got to tell people *I beat him* from his scope's cushion randomly coming off as he fired a shot and had a black eye and scratches between his eyes. That was a good one. The beaver that *didn't* get away didn't laugh.).

(post is archived)

[–] • 3 pts

They know you visit poal. That’s their way to show you they don’t like it. 😄

[–] [deleted] • 2 pts

Last goat I interacted with is now a skin rug on my floor. Predator of the deep my ass.

[–] • 1 pt

Goats are sneaky little tricksters. They had been planning this for a while.

The last billy that butted me so that I went face first into a bunch of brambles was renamed barbecue less than a week later once I could function again.