The tricycle skidded to a halt outside the abandoned movie theatre; the sack dragging behind stopped a few moments later. Little Billy untied the sack and dragged it upstairs, one tiresome step at a time. It took the better part of an hour for the wannabe actor to finally drag his prize into the small, dusty room. But brow drenched in sweat, he smiled contently at a job well done. Well, almost.
A refreshing glass of water later and Little Billy was ready to become an actor, and naturally collect the large sum of money actors get paid for not doing anything important like winning the Nobel peace prize. Regardless, it was with a sense of breathless anticipation that Little Billy opened the sack and set its contents on a rickety old chair.
The movie producer blinked for a while and looked around like a frightened little squirrel, only to conclude that firstly, he had no clue where he was and secondly, the sweet smile on the face of the little boy who tasered and abducted him outside the trendy nightclub he frequented was most certainly not an act. The boy really did possess a childlike innocence, but that certainly wouldn’t stop him from solving moral quandaries with a butcher’s knife. And so, despite knowing deep down that no one could hear him, the movie producer screamed blue murder, kicking his bound arms and legs hopelessly while Little Billy poured himself a bowl of cereal which he enjoyed with a glass of fresh milk obtained from the goat standing in the far corner of the room.
It was a smidge past midnight when Little Billy finished his breakfast. The movie producer had long since stopped screaming and the goat seemed to be eyeing the drops of milk left in the cereal bowl with an odd sense of possession. Little Billy walked over to the goat, stared it square in the eye for several minutes, then walked over to the movie producer, stuck out a slightly grubby paw and demanded his payment. The movie producer had no clue what was going on. A tad miffed, Little Billy walked back to the goat, stared it square in the eye for a little longer, walked back to the producer, stuck out his hand again and said “Now you owe me double.”
The bewildered producer shook his head frantically and tried to edge himself towards the door. It was a strange sensation he felt then; clearly new and different, and something he’d overlooked thus far, probably because of the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. But at some point while being dragged behind the tricycle, he’d apparently lost a toe. Oddly, it didn’t seem like a major concern right this instant. Once more, Little Billy walked to the goat, stared it in the eye, walked back, and demanded triple payment.
The movie producer shook his head again signalling he didn’t understand. Little Billy looked furious, “I did my acting, now make me famous!!!” he said, while caressing the dial on the taser ever so lovingly. The movie producer burst into tears, he feared the taser and only had eight toes left – another was lost during a childhood prank gone wrong; it’s not relevant to this story. He pleaded with the child to explain what was going on. Finally, Little Billy dug deep into his pockets and produced a tattered movie poster for the latest Hollywood blockbuster: “The Men Who Stare At Goats”. One last time Little Billy stuck out his paw and demanded fame and fortune, flicked the switch on the taser and held it deadly close to the producer. The sobbing man glanced up at Little Billy, tears pouring down his cheeks and said in the smallest of voices, “but I only make wedding videos.”
The goat meowed, the lights dimmed, and people in the distance heard the faint echoes of Little Billy’s vengeance.
Filed under: doom, Little Billy, ramblings Tagged: | goat, Little Billy, The Men Who Stare At Goats
