Attack of the Angry Goat Monsters? Our Sparkler Blogger Abroad

Sparkler Simbelmyne has just arrived in Greece with her best friend, Tory, her brother, and her grandma and is blogging about her adventures for SparkLife! Read more about her trip in her first summer blog post. —SparkNotes Editors

I’ll admit, I’ve thought about my final moments before. Will I be the victim of some insane super-virus, turning purple with pink spots in a government facility somewhere in the deep Arctic? Will I be taken prisoner by pirates and forced to walk a 2 x 4 into eel-infested waters? Will I meet my end by fire? Falling rocks? Poorly-cooked steak?

Yes, I’ve thought of many an exciting death befitting a glorious and illustrious life such as my own, but do you know what never once enters into any of these thrilling scenarios?

Goats.

Yes, dear reader, goats. Not once did I think my mortal candle would be snuffed out by deranged, homicidal, woolly livestock.

So here’s the situation: Tory, my brother, my uncle and I are driving in the mountains just outside of Ioannina, which is the city we’re staying in. Now these are lovely mountains, but as much as I love a good piece of elevated rock, I draw the line at locking horns with its mentally unbalanced inhabitants. So we’re winding our way up the mountain (...on roads that may have been built for donkeys, and donkeys on Weight Watchers at that. Seriously, these roads max out at maybe 6 feet wide. Maybe.) and passing all sorts of grazing animals along with the dogs that guard them from...um, I don’t know…falling off a cliff or getting eaten by dinosaurs or something.

Anyway, we get to the top of the mountain and are admiring the view, which happens to include a (seemingly) drowsy, grass-munching herd of goats. The air was mighty thin, and I was thinking about the possibility of brain damage due to lack of oxygen when…WHAM. Something that I assumed could only be a great white whale or a crazed Twilight fan rammed into the side of our flimsy little European car! A second later…WHAM AGAIN. We were under attack.

By this point my brother was shrieking and my uncle was saying some very naughty words and yelling something about eating the goat’s family. I was preparing to leap onto the back of one of its hairy fellows and stage an epic goat-on-goat battle, and Tory was probably weighing the pros and cons of cliff-diving without a harness, when the ruthless assault suddenly ceased. We all cautiously peered out the windows, and were flabbergasted to see this shrimpy, scrawny little midget-goat staring us down from a few feet down the road. He made some sort of goat noise at us, which I will assume translates to, "Now you have seen my awesome power. Beware of passing this way in the future." Then the goat scampered off into the sunset.

Well, not really…he actually just kind of skidded down some rocks and turned a corner, but what kind of ending is that? Anyway, we escaped with everything but our pride intact, and treated ourselves to a lot of chocolate when we got home.

In other news, I may possibly be in love with a frozen dessert. There is a place a few blocks down from our house that serves the most deliriously wonderful ice cream ever to come out of a frozen cow. Which is where ice cream comes from, obviously. The caramel-nut and I have just finalized wedding plans and are now working on finding a decent interior decorator for our flat in Paris. He prefers a sage/maroon color scheme for the guest room, but I simply won’t budge on an art-deco/nautical theme. I’ll just withhold the hot fudge for a week or two until he caves. Works every time.

Most amazing moment thus far
Tory and I in a dressing room, trying on RIDICULOUS pants that had a crotch somewhere around our knees. They were half karate pants, half clown pants, half safety parachutes. And yes, I realize that is three halves. But that’s just how amazingly hilarious those pants were.

Much love >;)
-Simbelmyne