JUDAS GOAT

I’m a Judas goat. That’s my job title. I lead animals to places they were’t planning to go.

My friends ask me, “Bob, what’s your secret? How do you get these animals to follow you?”

“Oh, I guess it’s just my magnetic personality,” I say. But really, it’s Aqua Velva. Other species love it. (Unfortunately, female goats don’t seem to care for it.)

I was in a goat bar the other night and when I told a gal what I do for a living, she asked the usual question.

“You mean you lead cattle to a slaughterhouse?”

“I prefer ‘abattoir’,” I said. “I used to do that, but I felt bad about it, so now I just lead sheep to the barn where they get their wool shaved off.”

“Well,” she said, “that’s better than murder, I guess, but it’s still disgusting.”

“The sheep don’t mind,” I countered.

“Then why do you have to trick them?” she asked.

“Hey, I wish someone would trick me into getting a haircut. I’m getting pretty shaggy!”

I dodged the question, but it made me question my line of work. I Googled “Judas” and found out that he was the guy who betrayed Jesus for 30 pieces of silver. No wonder my job title gets a negative reaction. And unlike Judas, I don’t even get paid; I just get room and board.

After a lot of soul-searching, I decided to pour my Aqua Velva down the drain. My ability to lure animals disappeared immediately, and I was quickly fired from my job.

Now, I tell females in goat bars that I’m unemployed. This seems to be only a small step up from being a Judas goat. But I discovered that while they don’t care for Aqua Velva, they do respond positively to Old Spice.