The story of Quincy's sad, sad end.
As you know from my interview yesterday(assuming you read it), Quincy died in a tragic accident after a party. The wounds have healed enough now that I can talk about it without sobbing uncontrollably.
It was a dark and stormy August night in Texas; which is to say it was about 90 degrees and cloudless. Also, it was in North Dallas, so the dark doesn't really apply either. But, had you gone a couple of hours south, you'd probably find some darkness. Closets are dark, too, if you're too tired to drive and you're just really looking for some dark.
So anyway, it was a party unlike the world has ever seen. The creme de la creme of the engineering world (read: Plano) had come together to celebrate the neverending flow of money coming into our pockets. Screams of "The 30,000 DOW is coming, baby!" and "I'm riding Juniper Networks into retirement!" filled the stormless air. Even the beer I'd just spilled couldn't ruin the mood. As I wiped up the mess with Amazon.com stock certificates, I wondered if it was all too good to be true. But, I was quickly distracted by a combination of alcohol and a low attention span.
Refilling my cup and taking a swig of beer, I stepped into the backyard and saw everyone staring at the roof in ammusement.
"What's up?", I asked.
One of the less asocial of the geeks looked at me. "They are." He pointed to the roof. "Kyle and Quincy are reinacting Mary Poppins. They've got the whole thing down. It's pretty good!"
I scoffed and then kicked back in a lounge chair to mock the show. But, he was right.
"Wow. They are good," I said.
"They're better than good; they're gr-r-reat!" shouted Tony.
I hated that tiger. He was always showing up to parties uninvited, interfering with our kids' sporting events and generally wreaking havoc. I could tell he just wanted to belong; it can't be easy being an anthropomorphic tiger in a human's world. Call me insensitive if you want, but I wasn't ready for that. Sure it works in cartoons, but in real life, it's just not right.
I looked up from that stupid tiger in time to see Quincy leap off the roof with an umbrella in his mouth. Kyle desperately reached for him, but only accomplished tripping himself up and falling off the roof and onto the patio table. Quincy, however had quite a leap. It looked as though he'd tried to go for the pool. Would have been a huge hit with the other partygoers had he not come up a few feet short. Instead, he was just a hit.
Kyle, dazed, looked over at what remained of Quincy, tears welling in his eyes. Quincy and CT were best friends, but I'd never known Kyle to take a particular interest in our favorite goat; they were more acquaintences than anything else. I wasn't sure if he'd bonded with him that night in a way I'd never understand or if it was the searing pain undoubtedly rising through his spine after the fall.
"You let him fall, CT!"
I'd never heard Kyle that upset before.
"What was I supposed to do, Kyle? I can't catch a flying goat!"
I continued sitting in my lounge chair. Quincy had been a good pet and friend. I'd mourn him later. This was too good a show to be spoiled by my own emotion.
"Oh man, we're going to jail," Kyle said as he got up from the table, his pain seemingly disappearing.
"What for? He jumped." CT was now on the ground, staring at the remains.
"Also, he was a goat," I added. "There's no crime against killing goats. At least, not that I know of. You still have to clean up the mess, though."
We were now the only three left. Some had probably felt the same fear Kyle had and left quickly, avoiding any touch of the law. The rest I'm sure fled the smell. After a couple of broken noses, I don't smell much, so I didn't really care.
"Mike's right. We need to clean this up, quick."
"And by we, you mean you two. I have nothing to do with this. You were with him on the roof, and CT, this is your house."
"Fine, Mr. Too Good to Clean up Goat. Come on CT; what do we do here?"
"Pine-Sol?
"No. We need the power of *Scrubbing Bubbles*!"
"I think that only works on ceramics and stuff."
"I saw a commercial last night for some powder that cleans with the hidden power of oxygen."
"Yeah, but we'd have to wait like 6 weeks. It'd be dry by then."
"Saw dust!"
"I think that only works for oil spills, dude."
"Blood and oil have a similar consistancy."
"I'll be back in a minute." CT ran inside. Kyle and I brought the keg over by my chair and killed some time. About half an hour later, CT came out with an easel and a chart.
"OK. I've created a chart detailing the pros and cons of each of our options."
I couldn't believe it. "In the amount of time you spent making that stupid thing, you could have cleaned it up with soap and water already!"
They both gave me dirty looks, "I thought you weren't helping."
"Fine." I'd figured I'd shut up.
CT went back to his chart. "Back to business. I've determined our best course of action is sawdust. We poor it on, let it soak, and we can scoop with a shovel."
"Sounds good."
"Next order of business. Where do we get the saw dust?"
"I have a Dremmel tool and a rocking chair."
"Excellent!"
I kept my mouth shut. As stupid as it was, it would work. Plus, it wasn't my chair. I left and came back the next morning for the memorial service. I have no idea how long they spent cleaning it up, but when I showed up, the only part of the chair left was the headrest. They had obviously continued drinking throughout the night, and as far as I could tell, they'd not had a wink of sleep between them.
We continued to the bathroom where CT poured the remains into the toilet. He then gave one of the most moving eulogies I've ever heard.
"Quincy, we didn't get to know you as well as we'd have liked. When Mike brought you over that first day, we thought you'd grow up to be a cheap meal. But we grew to love you. When I walked in on you and my girlfriend, I hated you, especially considering I wasn't getting any. But when I found out she was also sleeping with three other guys and that you had given her, and vicariously them, Undulant Fever, well, she got hers. And now...flush.
"We'll miss you, Quincy," I said.
And so ended the life of the greatest goat I'd ever known. He will be missed.
It was a dark and stormy August night in Texas; which is to say it was about 90 degrees and cloudless. Also, it was in North Dallas, so the dark doesn't really apply either. But, had you gone a couple of hours south, you'd probably find some darkness. Closets are dark, too, if you're too tired to drive and you're just really looking for some dark.
So anyway, it was a party unlike the world has ever seen. The creme de la creme of the engineering world (read: Plano) had come together to celebrate the neverending flow of money coming into our pockets. Screams of "The 30,000 DOW is coming, baby!" and "I'm riding Juniper Networks into retirement!" filled the stormless air. Even the beer I'd just spilled couldn't ruin the mood. As I wiped up the mess with Amazon.com stock certificates, I wondered if it was all too good to be true. But, I was quickly distracted by a combination of alcohol and a low attention span.
Refilling my cup and taking a swig of beer, I stepped into the backyard and saw everyone staring at the roof in ammusement.
"What's up?", I asked.
One of the less asocial of the geeks looked at me. "They are." He pointed to the roof. "Kyle and Quincy are reinacting Mary Poppins. They've got the whole thing down. It's pretty good!"
I scoffed and then kicked back in a lounge chair to mock the show. But, he was right.
"Wow. They are good," I said.
"They're better than good; they're gr-r-reat!" shouted Tony.
I hated that tiger. He was always showing up to parties uninvited, interfering with our kids' sporting events and generally wreaking havoc. I could tell he just wanted to belong; it can't be easy being an anthropomorphic tiger in a human's world. Call me insensitive if you want, but I wasn't ready for that. Sure it works in cartoons, but in real life, it's just not right.
I looked up from that stupid tiger in time to see Quincy leap off the roof with an umbrella in his mouth. Kyle desperately reached for him, but only accomplished tripping himself up and falling off the roof and onto the patio table. Quincy, however had quite a leap. It looked as though he'd tried to go for the pool. Would have been a huge hit with the other partygoers had he not come up a few feet short. Instead, he was just a hit.
Kyle, dazed, looked over at what remained of Quincy, tears welling in his eyes. Quincy and CT were best friends, but I'd never known Kyle to take a particular interest in our favorite goat; they were more acquaintences than anything else. I wasn't sure if he'd bonded with him that night in a way I'd never understand or if it was the searing pain undoubtedly rising through his spine after the fall.
"You let him fall, CT!"
I'd never heard Kyle that upset before.
"What was I supposed to do, Kyle? I can't catch a flying goat!"
I continued sitting in my lounge chair. Quincy had been a good pet and friend. I'd mourn him later. This was too good a show to be spoiled by my own emotion.
"Oh man, we're going to jail," Kyle said as he got up from the table, his pain seemingly disappearing.
"What for? He jumped." CT was now on the ground, staring at the remains.
"Also, he was a goat," I added. "There's no crime against killing goats. At least, not that I know of. You still have to clean up the mess, though."
We were now the only three left. Some had probably felt the same fear Kyle had and left quickly, avoiding any touch of the law. The rest I'm sure fled the smell. After a couple of broken noses, I don't smell much, so I didn't really care.
"Mike's right. We need to clean this up, quick."
"And by we, you mean you two. I have nothing to do with this. You were with him on the roof, and CT, this is your house."
"Fine, Mr. Too Good to Clean up Goat. Come on CT; what do we do here?"
"Pine-Sol?
"No. We need the power of *Scrubbing Bubbles*!"
"I think that only works on ceramics and stuff."
"I saw a commercial last night for some powder that cleans with the hidden power of oxygen."
"Yeah, but we'd have to wait like 6 weeks. It'd be dry by then."
"Saw dust!"
"I think that only works for oil spills, dude."
"Blood and oil have a similar consistancy."
"I'll be back in a minute." CT ran inside. Kyle and I brought the keg over by my chair and killed some time. About half an hour later, CT came out with an easel and a chart.
"OK. I've created a chart detailing the pros and cons of each of our options."
I couldn't believe it. "In the amount of time you spent making that stupid thing, you could have cleaned it up with soap and water already!"
They both gave me dirty looks, "I thought you weren't helping."
"Fine." I'd figured I'd shut up.
CT went back to his chart. "Back to business. I've determined our best course of action is sawdust. We poor it on, let it soak, and we can scoop with a shovel."
"Sounds good."
"Next order of business. Where do we get the saw dust?"
"I have a Dremmel tool and a rocking chair."
"Excellent!"
I kept my mouth shut. As stupid as it was, it would work. Plus, it wasn't my chair. I left and came back the next morning for the memorial service. I have no idea how long they spent cleaning it up, but when I showed up, the only part of the chair left was the headrest. They had obviously continued drinking throughout the night, and as far as I could tell, they'd not had a wink of sleep between them.
We continued to the bathroom where CT poured the remains into the toilet. He then gave one of the most moving eulogies I've ever heard.
"Quincy, we didn't get to know you as well as we'd have liked. When Mike brought you over that first day, we thought you'd grow up to be a cheap meal. But we grew to love you. When I walked in on you and my girlfriend, I hated you, especially considering I wasn't getting any. But when I found out she was also sleeping with three other guys and that you had given her, and vicariously them, Undulant Fever, well, she got hers. And now...flush.
"We'll miss you, Quincy," I said.
And so ended the life of the greatest goat I'd ever known. He will be missed.