Funny stories in under 500 words.

Goats in the Mist



The goats were back. He saw their ghostly white figures outlined in the morning dawn. Most were whitish in color, but some were pitch black with white patches. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn they were closer today. Picking up the phone, he looked up a number and dialed.

“Hello? My name is Andrew Wilde, and I’m pretty sure my property is being ensorcelled.”

“Excuse me? Ensorcelled?”

“You know, taken over, haunted, bewitched.”

“Oh, of course. So your saying you have a ghost problem?”

“Yes, goats.”

“Ghosts?”

“Goats.”

“Let me get this straight. Your being haunted by ghosts?”

“Yes, by goats. They come at dawn with the morning mist.”

“The ghosts?”

“Yes, the goats. They come every morning, without fail. I know what they’re thinking. They know that I know they want to take over my property.”

“Sir, how can you know what they’re thinking? They’re ghosts. “

“Well, it’s this look they give me with those beady little eyes, so knowing. It’s as if they’re aware of how much they scare me.”

“The ghosts?”

“Yes, ma’am, the goats.”

“I see. Uhhh, sir? What do they do when they come out of the woods?”

“Well, they eat, I believe.”

“The ghosts eat?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything in their path. Especially clover.”

“Could you repeat that?”

“They like the clover best.”

“We weren’t aware that ghosts like clover.”

“Oh, yes! And new green shoots of grass, too!”

“Oh dear, that’s not good.”

“Exactly! So what do you suggest I do?”

“Well, have you tried speaking to them?”

“Actually, yes. But all they said was ‘maaaa maaaa.’”

“There’s children?”

“Well, yes, I think I did see a couple of kids, but no more then three or four.”

“Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but, I’m really not sure we’re talking about the same thing.”

“Goats! Goats, you ninny! My property has been invaded!”

“We deal with ghosts, sir, hauntings! Things that scare you!”

“Yes, goats! Exactly! They do scare me! The way they look at me is quite frightening! And the way they materialize in the mist is altogether haunting, wouldn’t you say?”

“But sir, I’m sure that there is nothing we can do for you. Your problem is going to have to be solved some other way. I’m sorry.”

“But you can’t just leave me like this! What’ll I do? The farm down the road from me recommended you! They said that you took care of their little problem for them!”

“We did? What problem was that, sir?”

“Poultry heists. Chicken disappearing, different ones reappearing in their places that wouldn’t lay eggs. Poultry heists!”

“Don’t you mean poltergeists?”

“That’s what I said, poultry heists!”

“I think I’ve had quite enough of this conversation. Thank you and goodbye, sir.”

Andrew sat by the kitchen window watching the goats as they grazed. Maybe he’d open a bed and breakfast and start rumors of goats. He’d call it 'Goats in the Mist Inn.'

This story was written by Riss Ryker, who lives in Upstate NY with her two dogs, two cats and a python named Blossom. In addition to writing, Riss enjoys foraging for edible and medicinal plants, hiking and fishing. To read more of Riss' writing, visit her Facebook page.




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