It's like Winning Pony, But With Goats. And actually nothing like Winning Pony at all.
Cloud Goat and Blossom Goat were both, shockingly enough, goats. They lived in the town of Goatville, where they watched the clouds and ate whatever happened to be near their mouths when they happened to be hungry. Cloud Goat was also a fan of banging. She would bang Blossom Goat, and Derpy Goat and Flutter Goat, and any other goat that happened be around. She would also bang fences, tables, couches, jars of jelly, tin cans, and the trampoline next door.
It should perhaps be clarified at this point that banged thing by ramming her head into them. She did not, in fact, have sex with most of the things on that list. And if she did, nobody wanted to hear about it. Because goats having sex is gross.
At the moment, Cloud Goat and Blossom Goat were lying in their back, staring up at the clouds and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Eventually, one of them decided to speak about about their latest realization. Cloud Goat turned to Blossom Goat. “Baaa.”
“Baaa?” Blossom inquired, not entirely grasping the thrust of Cloud’s statement. After a few second’s to contemplate, she added. “Baaa.”
“Baaa.” Cloud agreed, giving a satisfied nod. “Baaa” She further explained, just to be certain there was no potential for misunderstanding. They were discussing important things, after all.
“Baaa,” Blossom announced, entirely satisfied with Cloud’s explanation. Now that they had resolved one of the great mysteries of the universe, the two returned to staring up at the clouds, content to rest and relax as the day went by.
Eventually, their day was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Rainbow Goat. Rainbow Goat was Blossom and Cloud Goat’s boss. Or at least, she would be if any of them had jobs other being goats. Since they were, in fact, goats, Rainbow Goat was not their boss at all, making the previous sentence entirely pointless. Then again, this entire story is pointless, because it’s about goats, and nobody wants to read about goats. Not even goats want to read about goats. Think about it, when was the last time you saw a goat reading a book about a goat. Never! That’s because goats are boring.
Rainbow Goat, however, was not boring. Or at least, she was not boring by the standards of most goats. Compared to some kind of flying, rainbow-maned pegasus, Rainbow Goat was incredibly boring. Rainbow Goat did not have a multicolored mane, wings, or a generally awesome attitude. Because goats do not have any of those things, on account of being goats and not magical cartoon ponies.
Rainbow Goat did, however, have one important asset. She had a fondness for feats of physical daring. far beyond the likes of ordinary goats. Indeed, there were few goats alive with the guts to replicate Rainbow Goat’s many death-defying stunts. Rainbow Goat was outrageous. She was truly, truly outrageous. At least, by goat standards.
Cloud Goat and Blossom Goat turned to face her, eagerly awaiting Rainbow’s performance. This new stunt was sure to be the talk of the town for weeks afterwards. It might even make the local goat newspaper. It was a pity that none of the local goats actually read the paper, as they much preferred eating it, and were not literate in any case. How it is that a goat newspaper came to exist when goats are not capable of reading or writing is a mystery for the ages. Or at least, it would be one if anyone ever cared enough to wonder about it.
But nobody did, because nobody cares about goats.
However, at this point we’ve had enough buildup to the inevitable disappointing and underwhelming payoff, so let’s not delay things any longer. Rainbow Goat stood tall on her four goat legs, allowing her to tower over Blossom Goat and Cloud Goat. Then, when she was certain that all attention was focused on her, she slowly rolled over onto her back, her four legs sticking straight up in the air. Then she let out her victory cry. “Baa!”
Blossom and Cloud turned to one another, carefully evaluating their friend’s performance. Blossom was first to offer her thoughts on the stunt. “Baaa,” she announced approvingly.
“Baaa,” Cloud agreed, most impressed by Rainbow’s performance. While the stunt might not have seemed terribly impressive to an outside observer, the depressing truth was that this performance would probably be the highlight of their week. Goat life really is that boring.
Their celebration was interrupted by the arrival of Derpy Goat crashing through the fence. She did not crash through the fence because she was destructively clumsy, because that might have been an endearing trait, and goats do not have endearing traits. Instead, she crashed through the fence because goats are just ugly and graceless creatures by nature.
Walking alongside Derpy Goat was her kid, Dinky Goat. By the standards of most goats, Dinky Goat was heart-meltingly adorable. It should be mentioned that goats have incredibly low standards. To the rest of the world, she was just a goat. Any cuteness she might have possessed on account of being a baby goat was offset by the fact that she would one day grow up to be an adult goat.
However, since everyone present was, in fact, a goat, they all agreed that Dinky Goat was concentrated adorableness. “Baaa.” Rainbow Goat trotted up, and lightly headbutted Dinky Goat. Blossom and Cloud shortly followed, adding their own words of approval accompanied by headbutts.
And then they all ate grass, and did other boring goat things. And nobody cared, because they were goats.
“That wuzza weird bedtime story,” Dinky announced, frowning at the book in my hooves. “Not like the ones Mommy reads for me.”
“No kidding.” I stared down at it as well. Between the rather obvious name references and the fact that the binding looked less than professional, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was up. “Where’d you get this anyway, Dash?”
Rainbow scratched the side of her head, offering a confused look of her own for the book. “Weird. No idea what could’ve happened, Cloud. Sparkler told me that was Dinky’s new favorite bedtime story when she gave it to me.”
From just outside the bedroom, the two of us heard a very audible snort of poorly suppressed laughter.
I turned to Rainbow. “Dash, I think we’ve been had.”
“Yeah.” Rainbow turned to me, a mischievous grin on her face. “You hold her down, and I’ll tickle her.”
“Deal.”
And then we got some righteous vengeance on a certain smartflanked teenager. We didn’t go too far, though. It was April Foals’ Day, after all.