The Goat Came Back! A True Story, Minus the SWAT Team

I'm Baaaaack!

I’m Baaaaack!

I’m an archery hunter. Like the natives of yesteryear, I never leave anything behind. I eat what I hunt.

In 1992 I took a goat from some of the most dangerous cliffs in Colorado. As soon as I got home I threw a piece of goat meat in a frying pan. Within five seconds my family was in the street gagging, trying to breathe and calling the SWAT team.

After I was released, Diane made me promise that I would never fry goat meat in the house again.

I took the meat to a processor. The burly man behind the counter studied my eyes. “Son,” he said, “You can’t eat wild goat meat!” “Actually, you can eat it,” he continued. “But you can also eat fungus, slugs and drippings from dumpsters. Its bad meat.”

I stood my ground. Finally he suggested that we make sausage from it and added he would need to use some industrial strength spices so that no goat taste would bleed through.

Several hours later, I headed home with my goat sausage. Diane wouldn’t touch it but later that night I was feeling wild. So I decided to have a snack of wild goat sausage and diet soda. I made a fascinating discovery.

Goat sausage is the original Boomerang Meat. It always comes back.

About ten minutes after the snack, I heard “The Whisper.” It was the goat sausage announcing it’s return. A moment after that, I did a tiny little belch.  A covert belch.  The kind a woman releases behind a gloved hand.

My family bolted out the front door. The swat team arrived shortly after.  After my release I was ordered not to eat goat sausage within 500 yards of our home…. and always downwind.

Then one day I was asked to speak at a pre-game chapel for the Denver Broncos. Payment for my presentation was two tickets to the game. After the chapel, my daughter Traci, who had the pleasure of meeting the great John Elway and Coach Dan Reeves, and I headed for our seats in the South stands.

The South stands ticket holders were a rowdy breed of rebel rousers who already had a head start on the party. They were stocked with beer, bratwurst, and all the traditional foods necessary for a Sunday football game.

My daughter and I had a little brown paper bag, with a six-pack of diet cola and three links of goat sausage.

It was the third quarter when I decided it was time for a snack. I ate a link of goat sausage and washed it down with two cans of diet cola. Even over the roar of the crowd, I heard The Whisper: “I’m coming back.” I wasn’t worried in the least. I didn’t have to hide the belch here. We were in an open air stadium with a swirling wind. There was no way anyone would notice. And yet, I restrained myself to a quiet little puff, with the emphasis on the “P” “Ppufff.”

Three rows behind me, a big pear-shaped man jumped to his feet and with a curse bellowed, “What died?”

There was no way my little “poof” could have offended the monstrous nostrils of this man. It had to be a coincidence.

Then the goat whispered again and I responded with a mini poof. The man shot to his feet. “I’m out of here,” he snarled and with a string of obscenities he left with two of his friends to find another seat.I heard the swat team siren in the distance.

  • The brown paper bag couldn’t hide it.
  • The spices couldn’t hide it.
  • As hard as it tried, my stomach couldn’t hide it.

That afternoon I found fresh meaning in the old saying, “Garbage in, garbage out.” In my case, goat in, goat out.

We are what we consume! What goes into our body, our mind and our soul will eventually become obvious to those around us. Feed your mind, soul and body with good, pure and wholesome things because…

The Goat comes back!