The Rightful Heir by Jefferson Knapp Page B

factly.
    â€œUh…wow! You’re quite the guru! Boy am I glad to know that!” Roscoe shook his head in disbelief. “Maybe you can tell me—”
    â€œYour father has passed on.” The llama interrupted in a soft voice.
    â€œPassed on? What does that mean? Passed on
what?”
    â€œLife.”
    â€œLife? Wha…what is that supposed to mean?” Roscoe recoiled as the llama spit at him again, covering his face with mucous. “Stop doing that! Ugh, nasty!”
    The llamasmiled strangely. “Roscoe…”
    â€œH-How do you know my name?”
    â€œBecause that is your name, is it not?”
    â€œWell, yes, but—”
    â€œYour father is dead.”
    The words stunned him. He tried to believe them. “My…my father is…dead?”
    â€œYes, your dead father is
dead.”
    â€œDead?” Roscoe asked like a child.
    â€œAlive?”
    â€œAlive?” The goat asked in confusion. “Who’s alive?”
    â€œWe are.”
    â€œWhat on earth are you talking about?!” Roscoe didn’t care if the two old hags heard him yell. “You’re not making any sense. Why don’t you—” His face was again covered in spit. The little goat wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but at that moment he again looked into the llama’s beautiful eyes and lost all concentration.
    The llama’s neck slowly and rhythmically waved back and forth. “Ah, yes,” he said peacefully. “Good question, little Roscoe. What on the earth am I saying? For what is the earth saying? If I am to listen to what the earth says first, then I can say.” Roscoe felt a sense of well-being in his semi-hypnotic state. “Now, let me tell you that I knew your father, Stinky.”
    Roscoe blinked. “You-you did?”
    â€œYes,” the llama smiled.
    â€œHow long have you been—”
    â€œHere?” Roscoe nodded. “I came to your father when I heard he was dying.”
    â€œHow long has he been dying?”
    â€œFrom the day he was born. Just as you and I are dying from the day we are born. Goat, it is not by our will that we live to die,but by our choice that we die to live.”
    Roscoe started to laugh lazily and his mind melted in bliss. He still felt sorrow over his dad’s death, but the llama’s words were bringing him peace.
    â€œMr. Llama—”
    â€œDolly.” The long necked creature smiled again with his large teeth.
    â€œDolly? Are you a girl?” Roscoe asked in a relaxed voice.
    â€œDo you ask this because you believe I am a female or because you want to believe I am not a male?”
    â€œOh man.” Roscoe exhaled. “I could use a nap.”
    â€œA nap won’t get you what you seek,” the llama whispered.
    â€œWhat do you mean, ma’am?”
    â€œSir… I am a sir but prefer not to be called ‘sir.’”
    Roscoe laughed sleepily, “I have a friend who has a girl’s name but he’s…he’s just a real
pig
. Huhuh…”
    â€œAnd does that make you a
real
goat?”
    â€œA wha-?” Roscoe’s head bobbed back and forth with Dolly’s.
    â€œA goat? Do you know what kind of goat you are meant to be?”
    â€œI’m a… I’m a fainting goat.”
    â€œYou’re not fainting right now, are you?”
    â€œI’m not much of anything right now, ma’am, uh, I mean, sir. I mean…”
    â€œDo you know what your father thinks you are?”
    â€œMy father? My dead-alive father?”
    â€œYes. He thinks you are a wild goat!” Dolly’s big blue eyes pierced Roscoe’s.
    â€œA wild goat? Me?”
    â€œYes, you. Stinky’s last wish was for you to fulfill your destiny and become one with the wild.”
    â€œMy destiny? Stinky? Alive?”
    Dolly jerked back and spita large glob of mucous onto the little goat’s face.
    Roscoe came to himself.