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			Billy Shelby Stephenson Hair hackled, front legs flexed he arched his back to poise the neighbor boy off the high porch when Uncle drove up in his new used peagreen Firechief Pontiac, Palm Beach suit, Panama hat, Italian desert boots. He'd had a nip or two toddy for the body Billy stetched and straightened his tail in a beeline when he saw his reflection in Uncle's car running up over the hood the hard rapid light patter of hooves in a sort of buttroll whipping and whirling about the top, feet every which way flashing tail twitching pills let's play doctor he got his monkeywrench lunged after Billy — we chased Uncle in our heads trying to give him some pills, the wrench already missing the goat when all in a diving woosh and swurge behind the biggest oak in the yard Billy bleated at Uncle climbing in his automobile, a cluster of goatballs under the seat of his Palm Beach pants.
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