Prose Header


by Daniel Shebses

The old mercury thermometer read eighty-eight degrees. Francis Glynn wiped the sweat from his forehead just before it reached his eye. It was mid-July, but still, it wasn’t even nine in the morning. How could it be so hot?

He sighed and looked down at his baked brown grass. A month ago, before the drought, it had been lush and green. Now it was mostly dead with patches of surviving blades growing smaller every day. When the drought first started, he had watered the grass to keep it green, but as the water restrictions tightened he was forced to sacrifice his grass for his goats.

It was a bit late in the morning to be checking on the goats. Usually he was out in their pens shortly after seven, but he had been busy the night before, very busy, and so he slept in a bit. Glynn wasn’t worried though, he kept his goats well fed and was sure there was enough feed, alfalfa and water for all of them, at least for the time being. Francis Glynn’s goats would never go hungry.

He had two pens totaling one acre. Strong wire fencing made up the perimeter and stronger cattle panels made up the divider between the male and female pens. The divider cut the one-acre pen into two half-acre pens.

Until recently, Glynn had used the same sturdy wire fencing on the divider, but that proven to be a mistake. One of the bucks got into the does’ pen and Glynn was left with an unwanted pregnancy. Now Glynn used heavy cattle panels as the divider. The bucks beat up on it fiercely, but the heavy-gauge, two-inch tubular steel kept those damned bucks in their pen. Glynn smiled; he decided who bred and when.

He undid the padlock and stepped into the does’ pen. His smile grew wider, as his does always put him in a great mood. He loved his does. To his left was Ophelia with her lovely blue-grey coat. He approached her and shook his head. Every goat owner had a weird one, and she was his.

Ophelia would spend hours every day walking in circles, following her tail. She was calm and never attempted to bite her tail but would constantly pursue it. Glynn had taken her to the vet to be safe but was advised that some goats were eccentric.

Another thing that confused Glynn about Ophelia was that she enjoyed being milked. She actually loved it, while the others at best tolerated it. Ophelia would gladly come to the milking stand, happily put her head through the picket fence like stanchion and then give some of the best milk around. Glynn knelt beside her and held her by the collar, stopping her circles. He kissed her nose gently and she gave him a warm “Bah.”

“Yeah, you’re a precious girl, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Gently Glynn separated her hind legs and felt in between. She let off a barely audible moan as she sunk her head into Glynn’s shoulder. In a while he would milk her. She knew it was coming and looked forward to it.

He rose to his feet and looked into Ophelia’s adorable face and gratitude filled him. His goats were an escape for him, an escape from his marriage. His wife was gone now, with the boys. A prudish and boring woman, the word fun never entered her mind. Her hair forever wound up in that tight bun atop her head, Glynn fanaticized of cutting it off as she slept. Her cleavage was hidden, even from him in private. It was a rare day indeed that he saw her body in the nude. She hated sex and tolerated it only to have the boys and as she would say “to throw him a bone now and then.”

So staunch, so uptight, so frigid, why she was so surprised when she caught him with Miranda was beyond him. Miranda was free. She was wild. She loved sex. Glynn laughed a bit. Miranda was forever in heat, and satisfying her was his passion. Her eyes so loving, so needing and her body so soft it begged to be touched. He missed his boys but not the marriage. Before she stormed out for the last time she had yelled, “Go and screw your precious Miranda, you sicko!” He shouted he would and he had ever since.

In the middle of the doe pen sat a very pregnant Titania. He knelt down beside her and gently rolled her onto her side. He glared toward the male pen, at Romeo, Hamlet, and Macbeth as his anger surged. Somehow Macbeth had gotten through the fencing before the cattle panels were put on and this was the end result. He was saving Titania for Hamlet but Macbeth got in the way.

He petted her lovely cream body and stroked gently under her chin. He looked up to the watchful eyes of Macbeth staring from his pen. She relaxed as he began toying with her most sensitive spots. She writhed and tried to escape the tickle, but he held her down and the tender tickling continued. After a moment he rose and spotted Juliet near the divider of the pens. Very close on the other side were the three males. He sneered at them and walked over.

Juliet, a reddish color, always pleased him. His older son used to call her “chili red” and the nickname was appropriate. She bahhed several times before Glynn began stroking her soft body. She’d been very vocal lately and hadn’t been eating much.

She also had been standing very close to the male pen. No doubt about it, she was in heat. Glynn knew what the male goats wanted; well they couldn’t have her yet, not till he was done with her. Macbeth, Hamlet, and Romeo grunted in protest from their pen while he tantalized her with the tip of his middle finger, back and forth until she began to shudder.

“Yeah, baby girl, you like that. Another day or two and you’ll be all set for Romeo.”

At that moment, Macbeth head-butted the cattle panel and snarled. Glynn, jolted by the sudden aggression, jumped back. He stared into the Macbeth’s eyes. More like slits than real eyes, thought Glynn. He approached the fence, but the goat held his ground. Glynn glanced to the right and Romeo and Hamlet drew back a few steps, but Macbeth didn’t budge. “You’re nothing but a beta male wanting to be alpha.”

Macbeth stood firm.

“These are my does, MINE! You start humping them when I allow it.”

Macbeth held his ground until Glynn gave him a faceful of fist. Macbeth, surprised, fell back a few feet and shook off the blow. Glynn positioned himself to climb the fence when Macbeth sauntered away. Glynn backed up from the fence, a sense of pride racing through him. He was the alpha around here. He smiled in victory and turned his attention to the lovely black and white Calpernia.

Glynn ran his hands up and down her sleek body giving special care when he came to the large scar on her left side. A new flush of anger washed over him. Anger toward his rotten ex-wife returned as he stroked her handiwork.

They had been arguing close to the gate of the pen. He had just opened it to care for the goats when she decided it was time for a fight. She came out shrieking about how the goats meant more to him then she did. He didn’t deny it. Calpernia, with her goat inquisitiveness had come over to investigate the open gate when his wife kicked it in to her, cutting her deep. He remembered taking a swing at his wife, but missing. She scampered back into the house as he tended to poor Calpernia.

Soon after that incident she caught him with Miranda. She said it was the sickest thing she had ever seen. He told her to look in a mirror. Loving Miranda didn’t make him sick. It felt good, natural. She made him feel a way his wife never could.

He turned from Calpernia in search for his last precious doe, his favorite. He spotted her in the farthest corner of the pen. Her perfect, pristine white coat looked radiant in the morning sun, and as Glynn approached he was sure he spotted a smile across her face. She loved him too. He knew it.

He cradled her head in his hands and kissed her passionately on her mouth. A bit of goat hair got on his tongue but he didn’t mind. With both hands, he massaged every inch of her body and thought he heard a hint of a giggle when he found her sweet spots. Glynn gazed into her dark brown eyes and pulled her head into his shoulder. His marriage couldn’t make him happy but his precious does did.


Glynn looked over his shoulder and saw her standing by the locked pen gate. She was barefoot and dressed only in a lovely white slip. Her long dark hair covered her shoulders, but left her ample breasts in clear view, barely contained within the fabric.

Glynn turned around and waved. “Good morning, Miranda!”

Copyright © 2010 by Daniel Shebses

Home Page