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Nobody would believe me when I told them it wasn’t my goat. You see, Jezzabelle only has three legs--she was run over by a woman who nodded off at the wheel. Ironically, she slept the sleep of the innocent. But, that is another story, entirely.

As for Jezzabelle, she simply couldn’t have gotten into our classroom and eaten everyone’s homework. The culprit had left hoof prints stamped in mud all over the place. Whoever had chomped through the papers turned into Mr. Hewitt distinctly had four legs.

Of course, no one wanted to admit that it might have been Elana Jacob’s mangy beast, Hercules. That little monster, who was no more purebred goat than I am president of the United Stares, wandered mindlessly all over the place, wreaking havoc everywhere it stepped.

When I tried to explain all this to my classmates, they simply replied, “He is one fry short of a Happy Meal.”

Others whispered behind their hands, “He’s a fool to think he can blame the Mayor’s daughter, even if everyone knows it’s true!”

Finally, a simple conclusion was offered. The two goats would race, and the owner of the loser would do everyone’s homework for the next week.

Alas, I feared then that I would loose. Jezzabelle was about as slow as they came, what with three legs and all. Perhaps she would come through if I simply explained the consequences.

Piling up books and paper, a calculator and impossible amounts of pencils, I stood before my prized goat and pointed. “Do you see the mess we’ve gotten into?”

Snort. A conformation.

“If you don’t win this race, I’ll have no time whatsoever to play with you. I’ll be too busy doing homework for twenty-six people! Understand?”

A second snort. Ahh, so she did see. Wonderful.

That afternoon, Jezzabelle and Hercules raced. As my fair goat tottered along at a slow, even pace, Hercules flounced about, stopping here and there to smell the flowers, which he then proceeded to swallow. I was suddenly reminded of that child’s tale, “The Tortoise and the Hare.”

Could my Jezzabelle actually win this race?

“What are you smiling about?” Elana Jacobs suddenly demanded? “Do you know what I’ll do to you if your stupid goat wins this race?”

“The last time I checked, you weren’t god,” I answered. “So, I think what you’ll do for me, when Jezzabelle wins this race, is all of my homework for the next week.”

Many hours later, to the gasps and applauds of my classmates, my perfect pet won the race. Indeed, Hercules wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Later that night, Elana Jacobs’ horrible goat was found rifling through Mrs. Robert’s classroom, greedily eating homework.

 ----

Author's Notes:

The prompt for this story required me to use these four lines:
1. He is one fry short of a Happy Meal.
2. Nobody would believe me when I told them it wasn't my goat.
3. The last time I checked, you weren't God.
4. Ironically, she slept the sleep of the innocent.

Also.... this is more of a children's story than anything else... a rip off of "The Tortoise and the Hare", obviously. XD