The Goats Have Always Been Bashfully Coming on Us

by Purée Potatoes or "P-P" as he likes to be called
Illustriustrations by Christopher McCreedy


goat girl

I got the idea for us to make a trip to Earth when my girlfriend, Keesha Beth discovered her lucky twenty dollar bill that she had been meaning to spend on "that" something special. Looming around right outside the orbit of Mars, it wasn't a very complicated thing for us to steer our craft a slight angle off from straight and land ourselves right smack dab into the downtown of Los Angeles, California, one of the greatest shopping capitals of the Earth.

We discussed our plans over our first beers (or as the Martians call them, shmooties) of the day. You see, Keesha Beth was very nervous with the notion that her bank fillings would be drained by her so-called husband, Jo-jo Jeffery David. He had always been under the impression that just because the bank account was under his name, he was free to withdraw assets as he liked. He was from Earth and never really got an understanding of Martian law; of how we Martians take care of things.

"But Tomatoes!" she says to me, "I always hate going into those banks, I always feel like such a goat. I can just see the look in their eyes and tell what they're thinking . . "

"And, what's that, sweetheart?" I say.

"They're thinking that I look like a goat! Even you are thinking that sometimes, . . . Don't try to lie to me, Tomatoes; I can see that look in your goatlike eyes! You know my self- esteem hasn't been that great lately, and those vicious earth people are gonna eat me alive with their "I know that you're really just a goat" stares! I'm only human for God's sake! Why can't we go pick up some nice, young, white, earth people bodies? I mean, I have a whole twenty U.S. currencies."

"OK, sweetheart. We'll do just that as soon as we go to the bank."

She still needed a little convincing, and didn't fully understand how the "earth planets", as she likes to call them, are situated, so I began to take garbage out of the garbage thing and simulated a model of how all the planets are spread about and moving. It was hard work being so full of shmooties because even though they provide me mental lubrication, they have a tendency of attracting dust which clogs things up. This strong diaherea smell in the air was making me dizzy, but still, using near all of my arms, I moved around the bits of litter in little circles while explaining the orbits of the planets to her until she acted as if she understood.

Later, at the bank, they made their usual "Has anybody ever told you that you look just like a goat?" questions being very unsympathetic to how Keesha Beth might feel. The whole ordeal upset her like you wouldn't believe and she began screaming all sorts of things about how she didn't appreciate being herded and how the president of the U.S. had some nerve supporting mandatory parental consent for the abortions of teenagers. I had no idea that you could still abort them while they're already teenagers, but apparently you can. Keesha Beth is very smart and knows what she's talking about, you know.

Being a Martian and all, my liquidity is constantly being validated through government supervision and supercision.

After that, we went to go have some shmooties, but in the establishment that we chose to patronize, the employees themselves asked me to have my "goat" wait outside for me. I was very insulted, and after smearing my girlfriend's excretions on their walls, we exited through the fire alarm door without leaving a tip. It was all very new, exciting, and thrilling to Keesha Beth.

Not wanting to risk any more offensive accusations towards Keesha Beth, we went quickly to the nearest hospital. The nurses had a very difficult time accepting the idea of what they thought to be a goat in their hospital, so I explained to Keesha Beth that I'd have the best luck finding bodies on my own and she would too. I can't help it if I was born a liar. After our good-bye kisses and all that, I watched as some orderlies directed her off towards the veterinary ward. I started wandering around and came across a gift shop complete with flowers and stuffed animals and cards and little rubber hearts for amputees. I decided that I was going to try to find Keesha Beth a nice present to try to help her to get over the stressful ordeal that she had been going through. I found this little box that I thought she would think was pretty. I reached down to pick it up, and as I was doing so, this creepy little man came running up to me screeching, flailing his arms.

"Sir!, Sir!; before you do anything rash, I must tell you something about that box, sir!" His voice and mannerisms were some of the most unsettling that I had ever come across.

"Go on, tell me about this box." I say rolling my eyes.

"If you open that box, this world and everything on it will come to an immediate halt. I know that you must think it's strange for us to be selling something like that in a hospital gift shop, but we have to make our money some way or another."

"How much does it cost?"

"99 cents, . . . it's on sale."

"Well, shit!, I'll take it!"

I thought it would be really special sharing something as important as the end of the world with my girl. I knew that she would think it was really sweet and cute. I purchased the box, stuck it in my pocket, and walked out of the store to go try and find a body.

I eventually decided on this one sleeping young woman. I crept into her room very quietly and started going through the cupboards. A small syringe was laying there filled with a dark, brown, murky substance. I needed to infiltrate someone's body. I pulled my pants down and stuck the needle in my tentacle. It was good, but not that good. They never got the knack of preparing the "medication" on earth as well as our's that we have back home. On setting the needle down, the woman awoke and started gasping like a fish in surprise at the sight of a stranger standing there with his pants down around her ankles. Pulling my pants up, I decided that this woman was even more mentally weak than I am myself, and that I was not in the mood to learn to operate a whole new set of genitalia. She said nothing as I lifted her out of the bed and directed her to the door of the men's bathroom. I tell her to wait there until I was done cleaning her room. An "Out of Order" sign on the outside of the bathroom door seemed to secure all things if you know what I mean.

The woman in the bathroom opened the door and began to question me, "Wa's, ... wa's, wa's wa's that?" She had one eye barely open and the other bugging out. Apparently, she was having trouble thinking. I reassured her, I said to her in a confident, calm voice, "It's O.K. It's always been that way." Dreamily, she nodded, contently dribbling onto the floor to sleep with her face pressed against the cold tiles; her little hospital gown draped around her little body. I approach her and realize that everything could work out pertfectly between our two nearly identical bodies. I bend down and the strong hunger so common with Martians like me I rip off bits of freshness from her smooth waistside with my own front teeth to suck out the succulence from underneath.I untie the little knot resting on her back and gently tug the gown from beneath her. Putting it on, sure enough, it fit perfectly. No doubt, we were similar in looks, adding and subtracting a few orifices and appendages.

I crawled into the already ruffled bed and waited while enjoying my previous shot. I enjoyed memories of the night before when me and Keesha Beth crawled into the already ruffled bed and waited while enjoying our previous shots. She said to me, "Impressive, most impresive, but you are not that yet," and that's when she flipped me over.

I was trying to keep the drool to a mininum, but having a bad case of feminine jock itch and all the hookworms were making the itching all the much worse. My swami always told me to keep it under control, but to let it flow when it needed to flow. He also told me to watch what I put in my mouth. The consequences could be horrible, aliens stealing my hands and having to spend my life [all of eternity] jerking off with my feet.

I drifted off with spit [blood, there's no differentiation] bubbles running from my eyes.

I soaked in my usual dreams of urine tidal waves, I'm no fucking cowboy.

After a while, a nurse popped her head into the room and called to me, "Susie?"

She seemed not to notice the real Susie passed out naked on the bathroom door In my best imitation of a high-pitched, croaky, supposedly feminine voice I responded, "Yyyeeeaaaahhhssssss?"

She says, "It's been a while since your last shot. Do you feel any pain?"

I began to shudder falsely, and mustering up all the supposedly nonexistent strength that I had I replied, "Oooohhhhh, the pain.Ooooouuuuoouououoggghhh, the horrible pain."

She walked towards the cabinet where I had found the needle earlier and I began moaning like a cat begging for food, "Uuuuugggghhhh, uuuooonnnn, the horrible pain."

The nurse turned toward me, in a nasal business voice, "Well, Susie, it seems that we have ran out of your medication. I'll need to go get some more. Will you be all right?"

"Oh yes, maam. I'll be O.K. as long as your return soon. . . . very soon. The diarreah is being so awful, . . . SO AWFUL!!!!!!!" At this point, I wasn't even trying to sound like a woman any more, but Nurse Fuckmouth still seemed to be convinced.

Drinkin' schmooties

She left, and I began to melt, coming down, crashing, no landing gear. Harsh realizations were returning. Martians stereotypically take self degredation very seriously, and I'm no exception. Every last single humiliating experience that I've ever had was forcing itself into my mind in precise detail. I was born to be a fool, and ever since coming to earth, I've just been trying to deny it. Ever since coming to earth, I've had thousands of humiliations with no focused attention on them, and at that point, they all were bludgeoning me at the same time. A clear, concise review of everything stupid I've ever said, drunk and/or sober, was probing everything in me. Embarassment is never a private thing. It's impossible to be embarassed when you're alone unless you think someone's watching you or reading your mind. It's Penetration.

Nurse Fuckingmymouth suprises me bursting into the room. In her pocket protector she has maybe ten sryinges, in an assortment of sizes, all way too big for anything smaller than elephants. I was intimidated, but still, I was ready to be rid of the pain, diarreah, and pity of "what is real".

"O.K., Susie, just roll over and lift up your gown, this won't hurt a bit."

Those were the last words I heard as a virgin.

The pain of the huge needle going into me was horrendous, but it was instantly canceled out by the effects of the "medication" washing my insides over me.

Drool [slobber] was again on me and my eyes were suddenly shut. I muttered something like, "Thank you." She pulls out another syringe, even bigger, and before I'm able to say, "No, thank you; I'm fine, but please, if I die, don't allow me to be buried without any clothes on" she plunges it into me. At this point, I lose my ability to talk, and can just barely see a dim image of the Nurse sticking more needles in me.


I fought hard to wake up what must have been hours later in a state of severe fuckedupedness. There was an IV bag dripping the same brown, murky substance into me. Too much of something is always better than not enough, but it just wasn't nice enough weather to [be dying] die that day. I pulled the IV needle out.

The naked girl on the floor was gone to I don't know where. I tried to make my way out of the ward. Getting up out of the bed, I fell to the floor and [to] pass out again. The Nurse walked back into the room. I slightly regained a little consciousness and tried to crawl away, but she stuck me with a few different points that she had handy and I quickly fell into death.

There was no time to be choosy about finding a body. I needed to use the nearest thing available: Oliver Secretions, this very fat man in the room next to me had just had both of his legs cut off at the knees by a train. He was awaiting prosthetic limbs. Like me, he was very doped up and did not mind sharing himself with me. After the first ten minutes or so, our beings were copletely mixed, and there wasn't even any noticeable separation between ourselves.

I was supposed to meet up with Keesha Beth in front of the hospital within a day and it seemed as if it was getting near to that time. The man whose body I was in wanted to wait for his new limbs, but I had no time to waste. So, I got him up off of the bed, and we began to walk down the hall towards the exit. The pain was horrible with so much weight sitting on fresh wounds and broken bones. We left a trail of spots of slimey blood behind us as we walked along on the ripped up stubs. The soggy, tattered bandages were unraveling as we went along. Chunks of flesh stuck to the glossy floor and tore off with every step. It got to the point where I was only stepping on raw, unexposed, uncushioned bone. It was terrible, but my presence only being mental, I could choose to ignore the pain.


That night, we went to go pay a visit to an old friend of ours. Him and all of his stuff was completely gone. We saw an old neighbor of his and I asked him, "Do you know where Otto Erotic is?"

"What?, Ya'll don't know? Where ya'll been, Mars?"

"Well, yes. What happened?"

goat girl 2

"You remember that big, Mexican man that was the spokesman in all those advertisements for that grocery store, Siesta?"

"I think so."

"Well, seems that that guy was one of Otto's Johns, and one time after they had had sex, he refused to pay him for some reason, so Otto went and shot and killed him. Since the Siesta man is dead, I guess we'll never know why he refused to pay him, . . . maybe the sex wasn't any good or something, or maybe Otto owed him money or maybe, . . . "

"Yeah, yeah, OK," I said, interrupting, "I'm sure you're right. We need to take off; we have a lot of things to take care of."

"Well, all right. Ya'll take care."

We headed out to the nearest shopping mall, but once inside, all that Keesha Beth could think of that she wanted to buy was kitty litter, yarn, live mice, and rubber hearts for amputees.

We walked out of the mall with all of our new stuff and passed by an abandoned lot. I got curious about Keesha Beth's new anatomy. We ventured off in the tall grass and sharded glass to see what we could get going on. I was surprised to find that her new body was equipped with things distinctly human. After that, no public bathroom with a lock, or heavily vegetated area was safe from me and Keesha Beth's abuse.

That night, we went out drinking and I got drunk. Everything got coated over with bleariness and bad bar pop music. There's nothing I could think about about why I would want to kill someone, but the next day after I emerged from unconsciousness in an abandoned lot with Keesha Beth sleeping on my chest, I knew for absolute sure that I had killed someone the night before.

After drinking my breakfast, I walked down to the police station to turn myself in. At the police station,there were lots of cops, men wearing ties, and women wearing power suits walking around. I've always hated the atmosphere of police stations, but when in them, I just imagine that I'm at the beach on a sunny day wiggling in the sand with fish dangling from my prepuce and I'm fine.

At the front counter, I tell them that I want to admit to killing someone. A couple of "officers" came up to me on either side and "escorted" me off to a holding cell. In the holding cell, I thought that I could hear Keesha Beth purring from some invisible place, but once I started hearing my mother telling me to clean my room, I realized that I was juast hearing things.

After waiting in there for a day, staring at the wall, a plainclothes detective, or something like that, shows up with two uniformed cops. "Mr. Stacy, I understand that you've commited a murder. Now, let's talk a little bit about the details of the incident."

"Like which details?"

"Let's start with where it happened."

This story was supposed to be "To be continued." Unfortunaltely, Tomatoes' L.A. apartment was ransacked and all of his possessions were thrown into the garbage by his landlord so the end of this story is forever least until Tomatoes rewrites it. ed.