The other day, a few friends and I took a hike out to our camp’s petting farm, Acorn Acres. There are a lot of entertaining animals who live there, and we were going to feed them grass because that is what you do at petting farms. As we approached the wire-and-wood-fenced enclosure, we caught the attention of one animal in particular. His name is Stupid Goat. Stupid Goat is small and brown and very, very bad at critical thinking. He got this weird gleam in his dull orange eyes as we approached, like he was struggling to deal with the awesomeness of the situation. I imagine this is how the thought process went:
People are coming.
They have grass.
People are good.
Grass is good.
People + grass = probably the best thing that has ever happened to me.
As soon as his mind finally made that connection, he ran as fast as he could toward the fence to greet his heroes, the Grass People. In his blind zeal, he thrust his head through a hole in the fence to get as close as he could to us, which made him very happy for about thirty-eight seconds while he munched on the grass we brought him. Then he tried to pull his head back into the safety of his enclosure, and he realized that he was stuck. As it turns out, Stupid Goat’s horns are curved perfectly to allow him to push through the fence forwards, but they are also curved perfectly to catch on the wires of the fence and thus block any attempts to pull his head back out.
This caused Stupid Goat a great amount of distress. He had no idea why he couldn’t escape, he just knew that he was stuck. His mind was overcome with one thought:
I can normally move.
Now, I cannot move.
At this point, it became apparent why Stupid Goat only has one and a half horns. He flailed around helplessly trying to get out, and the more we tried to guide his horns properly through the hole with our better perception and increased motor skills, the more he tried to stiffen his neck and be generally unhelpful. At one point, we got one of his horns through successfully, but the half-horn stubbornly hooked on the wire and Stupid Goat managed to wriggle his way back into full-on hyper-stuck-mode in moments.
We finally got him free after about fifteen minutes of intense coaxing and combat, but I don’t think he even realized that we were the ones responsible for helping him. In his mind, he had finally overcome the mysterious force holding him back and yanking on his head all by himself, and he couldn’t have been more proud of himself.
I can move again.
I am awesome.
Those Grass People must be so impressed with me…