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Adventures With Goat: Chapter 2

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Adventures With Goat: A Journey Through Vice and Virtue

Demonic Kitchenware Saves the Day


"I'd suggest a coat," said Goat as he was rummaging through the refrigerator.  Every so often, he would throw a random food item that, he believed, would be necessary for survival at Taren.  "It will get cold eventually, and when it's not cold you can fill it Twinkies!"

"Goat," said Taren, packing his own supply of necessities in a backpack.  "I really don't think that Twinkies would be necessary for, say, the end of the world."

"Now, now," said Goat, who was fumbling with a bottle of barbecue sauce.  "You can't count out the power of Twinkies just yet. They last forever, can stand up against the awesome forces of nature, and are an amazing weapon against possessed people."

Taren did not agree with the last statement.  "Possessed people?  I doubt a cream-filled sponge cake can beat a demon."

"You mock the Twinkie, but the Twinkie can, and will, save you someday."

"I am not having this conversation."

"You mock this conversation, but this conversation can, and-whoa!!"  Goat was suddenly surprised by a loud crash in the streets.  Apparently this surprised him a lot, as he threw the now open bottle of barbecue sauce into the air.  Guess where it landed.

"Aw, come on Goat," complained Taren, now drenched in barbecue sauce.  "I just got dressed."

"Quiet," Goat whispered, shushing him.  "Did you hear that crash just now?"  Taren nodded.  "I think some people are outside.  You go check it out while I guard the Twinkies."

Taren tried to argue, but every time he spoke up, Goat just shushed him, so in the end Taren went outside to take a look.  He scanned the streets from the second floor, and noticed that there were three people weaving in and out between the cars.  Taren was tempted to call out to them at first, but then he noticed the blood.  Blood on their clothes, blood on their hands, and blood all around their mouths, caked and dried.

"Cannibals," whispered Taren, ducking behind the balcony.  This was bad.  He was planning to sneak back into the apartment when he heard the man-eaters converse among themselves.  'Couldn't hurt to eavesdrop,' thought Taren as he leaned in and listened.  This is what he heard.

"Are you sure that kid ran this way," questioned cannibal 1.  He was the tallest among the three, and looked the most normal, or as normal as you can get if you were a cannibal.

"I'm certain," said cannibal 2, a shirtless and insane individual.  He had blood smeared all over his bare stomach.  "My nose never lies."

"Really," asked cannibal 3, the shortest and fattest of them all.  "So the reason we haven't decided to go anywhere else in this god-forsaken state is because you still can "smell" the kid we've been after for 3 days?"

"Well, yeah," said cannibal 2, sniffing in the air.  "In fact, I think I smell something right now."

"What is it," asked cannibal 1.  "Your odor?"

"No, that's not it," said cannibal 2 as cannibal's 1 and 3 chuckled.  "It smells more like . . . like," he turned to face right were Taren was and smiled.  "Barbecue sauce."

Taren raced back into the apartment, slammed the door behind him, and grabbed his backpack.  "Goat, we need to leave.  Now!" shouted Taren.  He saw Goat run in from the kitchen, carrying Taren's coat.  "Quick, give me my coat."

"No can do, Taren," said Goat.  "This baby is full of my Twinkies.  Nothing will separate us."

Taren did not have time for this.  "Alright, forget it then, let's just hurry up and-," axes came pounding down upon the apartment door, scaring the living day-lights out of Taren.  "Oh come on, how is that fair?"

"Nothing is fair in the apocalypse," he heard the cannibals outside screech.  "Stay nice and cozy, little piggy."

Taren had no time to stay "nice and cozy", and tried to think things through.  'Alright,' he thought to himself.  'The three cannibals are bashing down the front door, which means that no one should be at the back where the fire escape is.'

He ran to the back of the apartment, and found Goat already waiting for him.  "Good to see you finally caught up," said Goat, hugging his coat of Twinkies tightly to his chest.  "Hurry up and get down there."  Taren obliged, and slid down the escape ladder to the alley behind the apartment complex.  Just when he thought he had a chance, he turned to see the cannibals at the end of the alleyway.  Cannibal 1 laughed.

"I told you the axes would get him out of the apartment," he said, a haughty smile on his face.  "Let's get hunting."

This is what Taren shouted as he ran through the streets and back alleys of San Francisco. "Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap!"

"Save your breath Taren," said Goat, who was floating alongside him, still clutching the Twinkie coat.  "You'll need it if you plan to escape these creepers."

"Great idea," Taren said sarcastically.  "Speaking of great ideas, do you have any that will help me not die!?"

"Actually, I do have an idea," admitted Goat as he rubbed his chin and nodded.

"Really," asked Taren, suddenly very optimistic.  "What is it?"

"Okay here it is," said Goat, clearing his throat.  "You're going to keep on running with all your strength, and I'm going to make jokes about your current situation."

Taren's left eye twitched.  "You're going to do what," he yelled.

Goat shrugged his shoulders.  "Like I said, I'm going to make jokes.  Okay here's the first one-"

"This is not the time for a joke," screamed Taren, gritting his teeth.

"Sure it is," said Goat, eating a Twinkie.  "Okay, so anyway, hey Taren, you managed to get a lot of men following you.  You must be a pretty saucy guy. Eh, eh."

"Very funny," mumbled Taren.  "Hey, you do realize I'm most likely going to die, right?"

"Oh, pish posh, their like, ten yards behind you," countered Goat.  "But hey, if the cannibals are that determined, you must be some pretty hot stuff, huh."

'When I get out of this mess,' Taren thought, 'I am going to murder you.'

"Hey, Taren."

"WHAT," Taren yelled at the top of his lungs, surprising Goat enough to make him drop a Twinkie.

"Er, I just wanted to let you know," Goat said in a meek voice.  "In case you die, I will always remember you as the sauce boss."

". . . I hate you, so much."

Before Goat could make any more bad puns, they came across a fork in the road.

Literally.

Pause: I assure you, this was no ordinary fork.  It was three times the size of an average one, pitch black, and it was growling.

Taren and Goat came to a sudden stop.  It wasn't just a fork in the road, there were knives, spoons, pots, plates, a whole variety of kitchenware strewn about.  All were huge, black, and growling.

"Uh, Goat," asked Taren nervously.  "Do you know what's going on?"

Goat gulped and squeezed the coat tightly.  "I do, and that means he is here."

Taren dared to ask.  "Who?"

Goat pointed to a black mass surrounded by silverware.  It appeared to be a skeleton, but it wasn't like any Taren had ever seen.  It was twice the size of an average man, with bones gnarled and black.  A robe that might as well have been made of shadows was draped over its body, and in its hands was a set of golden scales.  "Him," Goat said.

At this time, the cannibals had caught up, and burst towards them, gnarling and drooling, axes held high.  But when they were just inches away from Taren, the kitchen appliances reacted.  Growling, they lunged through the air at the cannibals, ripping, stabbing, bashing, scooping, and killing.  But that wasn't all, because as the cannibals screamed bloody murder, the forks, spoons, and knives all grew mouths, and devoured them alive.  Not a scrap was left.  The skeleton rose.

"Convinere," rasped the skeleton, speaking in Latin.  Taren would have liked to point out that the skeleton speaking, much less rising, would be impossible, but considering today's events, from sleeping for 2 weeks to man-eating spoons, that seemed unnecessary.  Speaking of spoons, as the skeleton spoke, all the kitchenware started to swirl around in a twister of random cooking appliances, before forming together to make what appeared to be a . . . horse.  The horse whinnied, making an ear-piercing noise that sounded like a million knives going through an equal number of knife sharpeners.  The skeleton, which looked as if it was smiling, turned to face Goat, who was sweating profusely.  Apparently he knew the skeleton.

"Bene, bene," said the skeleton, shaking its head ever so slightly.  "Si est non Hircum."

"Ave, Fames." said Goat quite nervously.  "Interpellare consilium non es tu?"

Before their conversation could get any further, Taren interrupted.
  
"Hey, whoa, wait a second." Taren said raising his arms in the air, still cautious of the killer kitchenware horse.  "Me no speak dead people.  Speak English.  It's the only language I understand."

Goat shot Taren a look that said 'You just got us killed.  Thanks for your hard work.', but the skeleton just cackled.

"Oh, Goat," it exclaimed, speaking in flawless English.  "You certainly know how to keep good company, no matter what realm."

"He's not my friend," Goat and Taren said in unison.  They stared at each other.  "Stop copying me."

This just made the skeleton laugh even more.  "You both try to deny it, but you two are closer than you believe."

"Yeah, that's great," grumbled Taren.  For some reason, the skeleton's words made Taren feel . . uneasy.  "So who are you anyway?"

Goat once again gave Taren a look that said 'Why did I bring you?  Why did I let you live?', but this made the skeleton laugh once again.  "Poor mortal, didn't Goat already introduce me?  I am the third rider of the apocalypse, he who rides on the black horse.  I am Fames.  I am Famine."

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When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, "Come and see!"  I looked, and there before me was a black horse!  Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand.  Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, "A quart of wheat for a day's wages, and three quarts of barley for a day's wages, and do not damage the oil and wine!"

Revelation 6:5
I grew tired of butchering the english language, so I decided to butcher latin instead.
On a side note, introducing Famine, third horseman of the apocalypse, and most likely going to be the best thing to happen to Taren for a long, LONG, time.
With that said, this is SeDivisum, signing off.
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