If you're around my family, ask them about the Attack Goats. They will start laughing. Hard. One of the first stories my family told Gary was about the Attack Goats. Now, here is the story from my point of view. . .
Sometime a long time ago, almost 30 years ago, my parents took my brothers and I to Opryland, when it was a theme park. I was proud to be in charge of keeping up with the map, which I put in my back pocket. While we were at Opryland, we went into the petting zoo. I got a cone of food, and wanted to give the cone of food to the sheep. As I was trying to walk back to the sheep to feed them, a GIANT goat came up to me and tried to take the sheep food. I held the cone far over my head. More GIANT goats started coming after me. One of them was going after the map in my back pocket, and other were trying to climb up me to get to the cone of food. I was screaming for help because I was being attacked. . . .
My parents were standing nearby laughing at me. I never got any help. I have no idea how I survived the Attack Goats all on my own, but apparently I made it somehow.
My parents still think this is funny. So does almost everyone else who hears the story, for some reason.
Apparently, Henry isn't a big fan of goats, either. This past weekend we went to the zoo and walked through the stables. I noticed Henry was (justifiably) being sure that the animals didn't get his feet. . . . (Notice the goat coming after him.)
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