Imbuzi Chèvre is the Readers’ Choice in this week’s Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. The winning entry is decided by the popular vote and rewarded with a special feature here today. (In the case of a tie, the writer who submitted an entry first is the winner per our rules.) Without further ado, here’s the winning story:
Sam the Ram
by Imbuzi Chèvre
Sam was out for an amble near Boise, Idaho. He had pretty good hearing, like many goats do. You can tell because their ears are big and floppy.
As Sam got closer to Boise, he could hear the bleating and braying of other goats. They had funny goat accents, like they weren’t from around here.
Sam clip-clopped into a neighborhood. He saw a bunch of other goats. He didn’t know how many. Sam wasn’t good at counting, but he made up for it by being handsome.
His father, the noted goat showboat, Otis Jefferson Creosote Gravy-Boat Petticoat Goat, his friends called him “Billy Bubba,” always said, “Sam, you’re a ewe-magnet. You keep your beard clean and the ridge line is the limit, son.”
Sam approached the herd. “Y’aaaaaall not from around here, aaaaaare you?” he said to a shapely ewe.
“No. We’re with ‘Goats Are Us.’ We eat the lawns of humans too lazy to cut their own grass. I’m Beulah.”
I knew it, Sam thought. Mercenaries!
“I’m Sam. How do I hire on, Beulah?” he said.
“Try-outs,” Beulah bleated. “They give you a lawn as a test and you get 250 mouthfuls only. That rule is strictly enforced. Then they take a vote on how tidy your lawn looks.”
“Sounds fun. Any tips?”
Beulah looked around secretively. “Well,” she said, “we usually call home to our flocks and get them to vote for us. That’s how we all got here.”
Sam lowered his head and started to chomp.