Sent Story: The Goat That Killed A Lion (1)

Here’s another excerpt from another edition of my short stories series (sent story). What do you think?

the goat

“Once upon a time in a land far far away, there lived a fat young man. His name was Adeyam Phehehe Pistola. He was a liar and a crook. He lived in a hut on the outskirts of a village located between the forests and the mountains. His only possession was a little white goat and a farm land he had inherited from his late father who had died 3 years ago.

“Please Adeyam, try and be good from now on. Try and work hard. Work in the farm I left you and you’ll be rich,” said his father when he was dying.

But Adeyam was so lazy that he didn’t listen to his father, he could not even repair the roof of his small hut and during the rainy seasons, whenever the rain fell the water will soak his small possessions and even flood the whole huts at times. Adeyam Phehehe Pistola was so lazy that he would cover himself, hide at a corner and watch his plates and pots and pans and chairs float sadly over the water.

The only way he survived was begging for alms from strangers and travelers who happened to pass by the forest on their way to the village and then he would go into the village bar and spend it all on food and palm wine with his equally lazy friends. This was what he had been doing for the past 3 years. He was even doing this before his father died.

One day, as he sat round a table with his three lazy friends, drinking palmwine together, one of them said, “Adeyam Phehehe Pistola, I heard your father died because he was so honest. He didn’t want to plant the stolen grains from the other village that other farmers around were planting, which were better than ours”

Adeyam, being a liar and a crook just laughed. He didn’t even say anything in defense of his father, he was as drunk as his friends and when people are drunk they don’t know what they are saying.

“I even heard that he planted chicken, teddy bears and brooms instead of cassava,” said the 2^nd friend as he drank another mug of palmwine and began to pour himself another from the jug that was on the table they were sitting around.

“Yes-oo!” said Adeyam and they all burst into laughter. They were already drunk and didn’t know what they were saying.

“Adeyam Phehehe Pistola,” said the 3^rd friend, “I knew your father and I also knew your grand father and the grand father of your grand father and all of them were robbers, liars and cheats. That’s why your family’s surname from generation to generation has always been Pistola”

“Is that why his father was named Bola Pistola?” asked the first as he placed his head sleepily on the table.

“Yes! You know a Pistola is a gun” said the 3^rd friend as he dropped from the bench, drunk and fell fast asleep where he had fallen. The other two had also slowly fallen asleep too.

Though his three friends had been saying nonsense, Adeyam saw some sense in it. He said to himself, “my great grand fathers must have really been into something bad for them to be called Pistola and they were rich. At least my father and I had enough to eat when my grandfather was alive,” and he continued “Besides, if my father was so honest why should he be poor. What about me? I have also been honest and I have never made any money. I have worked on my father’s farm land, I have reared cattle for the Fulanis, I have even made brooms and sold them in the market but yet I am not rich. I need to do something.” He stood up lazily and managed to walk home.

The very next day when he woke up he was still thinking about this, when his white goat bleated, “meee!”

“That’s it. I am going to use my white She-goat and my common sense to make money. Ho-ho-ho! I am going to be rich. I am rich. I am rich,” he shouted jumping up and down. He sold off his remaining possessions at the village market, which were nothing more than some rusted pots, pans and wooden chairs and a small bed. He used the money to buy fine new clothes for himself, bought a new trumpet, decorated his goat and traveled off to villages far away.

When he got to the 1^st village, he went to the village square, blew his trumpet to get the attention of the people and shouted, “Hello! Good people of this village, I bring to you amazing news. Behold! I display to your view the first goat ever in the world to kill a lion.” And he would suddenly remove the wrapper he used to cover his little white goat. “Just look at her strong horns, just look at those fine legs, just look at how she runs fast.” then he would go on to demonstrate how the goat fought and killed the Lion and as a result now had only one eye. He would describe every move the goat made during the fight with the lion in detail.

Since he was a crook it wasn’t difficult for him to convince the people of the village to start donating money and the people of the village were easily deceived. He even showed them a picture of a dead lion he had stolen from a hunter…”

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