Resurrection and Digestion

“I don’t like it standing there,” I said. “It’s an ill sign. Satan takes the shape of a goat sometimes, doesn’t he?”

“I say it gives me hope,” Jim replied. “Thor’s chariot was pulled by a pair of goats.”

“So?”

“So, every night he would kill and eat them both, but making sure to keep the bones intact. Then, every morning, the goats would come back to life again.”

We were silent a moment, as the wind pushed the shadows of the elm. The goat grunted and nibbled the grass.

“Guess we should’ve eaten Frank,” I said.

Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with a Friday Fictioneers picture, and this is what we end up with. It’s also incredibly late! But read the other stories—they’re bound to be better (Photo courtesy of Randy Mazie).