Bucket List #76: Sacrifice a Goat

When I started this blog five years ago, I was seeking a better life. I quit my job at the hot dog factory and said, “you know what? I’m gonna find out what a blog is.” So I found out what a blog is and started one. One of the things that brings me peace in this world is the ability to cross out items on my bucket list. I hope that when I share these experiences it inspires you to make your own bucket list. Remember when I climbed that tree I’d always been afraid of? Remember when I ate raw steak and didn’t give a shit if I got sick? I did get sick, but that’s not the point. Life is about bucket lists. Or maybe death is, but it doesn’t matter.

Today I’m proud to announce that I’ve conquered item #76 on my bucket list,

Sacrifice a goat to the gods of chaos.

Consider yourself crossed out number 76.

Yesterday Randy and I met outside the old hot dog factory. Randy used to work the line with me. Randy bought a goat at the local goat market. And before you ask, yes the goat was free range. The goat’s owners assured me he only consumed free range trash. His name was Francis. I don’t know if you remember when I crossed out #56: To get a badass broadsword, but I decided that Francis would transfer to the next realm at the tip of my magnificent blade. Randy and I both prepared something to say to Francis before we sent him to the spirit realm.

Mr. Goat,

I did not know you well,
but you are a goat, so that makes sense.
You seem kind and noble,
I don’t usually think goats are noble,
but you my friend, could be noble.
Forgive me for what I must do,
but I am seeking a better way,
one bucket list item at a time.
Is that cool?
Goodbye Francis,
I wish I knew you better.
Even if you’re a goat,
I really wish I did.

Randy isn’t too big on having his stuff published on the internet so he wouldn’t let me type his eulogy up. We read the remarks and I took the saber in my hands. “Goodbye Francis! May the spirit realm accept you with warm hands!” I bore the sword down into the back of his skull and the blood flowed like the Nile upon the pavement. I expected him to die instantly but it was a painfully slow process. His bleats tore at my ears and heart, but my grip never loosened. Eventually his body fell to the earth and was silent. I was crying. Tears of joy. I felt so open, I couldn’t wait to blog about it. I did this, dreams come true. I used to think that the world defined who I was, but as I ran my fingers through the goat’s severed spine and felt his warm blood slipping between my fingers, I understood that I am who I am. I am a blogger! Through the act of blogging we can be who ever we want to be. We can order broadswords, buy goats, and kill those goats. It’s Web 2.0, anything is possible. Now if you’d like a limited edition t-shirt with a picture of me slaying this goat please mail $20 and a brief note explaining what you’ll be doing to change your life this year. Not only will you get an awesome t-shirt with me killing a goat on it, you may even get your bucket list story published on this blog.

In the blogging age, we have to grab life by the balls (or horns) and sever its arteries one slice of the broadsword at a time. Who’s with me?

Peace be with you,


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