Friday, September 11, 2009

A Short Story to the tune of Otis Redding, coffee by side, dusk in the skyline (with planes flying in-and-out overhead.)

"Dear God, what is that?" Dr. Donald Drummond exclaimed. His assistant peered at it through the binoculars.


"It appears to be a goat, sir. A mountain goat, Capra aegagrus hircus to be precise, sir."


Dr. Drummond appeared crestfallen, or at least as crestfallen as one can appear when his or her face is mostly obscured by a thick, wool-lined collar of a coat. "You don't suppose its our Yeti playing mind tricks on you? They might be such tricky fellows, you know."


"I don't believe so, sir," the assistant replied in a deadpan.


"Oh... well, It's rather cold out here, isn't it?" Dr. Drummond said quickly, peering up at the sky.


"It usually is in the mountains, sir. The elevation, you know. Warm air. Cools as it rises and all that. Sir."


"I'm not a damned army general, so stop calling me 'sir,' will you?" Dr. Drummond snapped. Then he forgot why he was there for a moment, and amused himself by watching the puffs of breath spurt forth from his chilled lips, and as he did so he wished for a hot drink in front of the fireplace; and over the edge of the fire would hang a lovely picture of he and a Yeti, and perhaps there would be a disappointed goat in the background.


"Of course, sir," replied the assistant. Dr. Drummond didn't mind the slip, and the assistant knew that. "Sir? The animal appears to be headed in our direction. Should we retreat? It might not approve of our encroachment of it's territory."


"What if this mountain goat of yours was actually a Shape-Shifting Yeti? Wouldn't that make for a brilliant discovery? I can see the headlines now, by God! 'Yeti Revealed: Biological Evidence Proves Genetic Mapping Like that of the Chameleon.' ...No, that doesn't have the correct ring to it. Ah well, best to leave it up to the journalists. They know what they're doing." Dr. Drummond chucked to himself, then took out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.


"I don't think the goat liked that much, sir. He appears to be angry."


"And well he should, for he doesn't have a silken handkerchief to blow his Yeti nose with! Do you think I should offer him mine?"


"But you've just used it, sir," said the assistant. And indeed, it was not the first time Dr. Drummond had blown his prominent and red nose with said handkerchief.


"I do believe there is a clean one in the pack. Fetch it out, will you?"


"I don't think there will be time for that, Sir. The goat appears to be charging!"


"And well he should! I daresay he's in want of our food stuffs. Vegetation is rather spare in these parts, as you can see. The high and rocky crags are not the best growing locations, nor is the tundra environment-- and of course the snow puts a bit of a cramp on the sprouting of greenery as well." Dr. Drummond said this to his assistant's back, as the assistant had already began running in the opposite direction of the goat. "See here! Where are you going, boy?" Dr. Drummond challenged. He did so with his back to the animal, so of course he did not see the goat charging, but perhaps it was better that he was got in the backside rather than the front. The force of the goat threw him forwards, face-first, into a thin layer of fresh cold snow, and he blacked out much to his own disappointment.


When Dr. Drummond came to moments later, however, the shaggy white beast was rooting through his coat pockets-- and, much to Dr. Drummond's delight-- had found the pipe tobacco hidden there. The goat commenced to eat it.


"And you may have it, good sir Yeti in disguise," Dr. Drummond remarked happily, but quietly, as not to scare the animal off. "Whatever you want, sir, you may take!"


The goat lost interest in the Doctor's coat then, and began to chew on the Doctor's pack straps on the backpack that had been catapulted three feet to the right. Dr. Drummond, with much effort, managed to roll himself upright so that he may better observe.


As the pack was not the one which held the foodstuff, the shaggy goat soon lost interest in it and started to wander off, a bit erratically as a matter of fact because of the tobacco it had ingested.


"No, Dear Beast! Do come back, and reveal your true form to me!" Dr. Drummond lamented, but the goat paid no attention to him and instead disappeared behind a large crap a little off in the distance.


"Are you all right, sir?" The assistant asked timidly, emerging from behind the rock he'd managed to secure himself behind. Dr. Drummond whirled around.


"You! Where have you been when I needed you?"


The assistant was quiet for a moment, and then he held up his camera. "I managed some wonderful shots-- one just as he butted you, and another while he was searching your pockets. Quite an experience, wasn't it, sir?" The assistant timidly half-grinned while searching The Doctor's face for emotion.


Dr. Drummond calmed himself and dusted the snow off of his coat. "I suppose it was," the Doctor replied, while attempting to dignify his attire. "Oh look! Perhaps that is our Yeti, instead?" Doctor Drummond then asked, pointing over the assistant's shoulder.


The assistant turned to look, and then sighed. "Sir, are you aware that the Yeti is rumored to live in the Himalayan Mountains and not here in Canada? I do believe its only another mountain goat."

In which a shadowy freedom fighter known only as "E" uses intellectual terrorist tactics to fight against her totalitarian society.

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