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“If you guys want to head over to the side of the barn there, you can grab yourself a couple of yoga mats,” Mary Lou informs us when we get behind the house. She points to a huge red barn with multicolored stacks of rolled-up yoga mats set up on a cafeteria table right next to it. “Join us inside the fence when you get your mat and we’ll give a brief overview of the class, bring out the goats, and then we’ll begin.”
With Eric still holding securely to my hand, I glance over inside the white picket fence that closes off part of the farmhouse’s backyard and see around twenty people sitting on their mats, laughing and talking and looking completely happy about whatever this GOGA nonsense is. More of my irritation melts away.
How bad can this be? Maybe we’re just going to do yoga while a bunch of goats walk around outside of the fence, far enough away to not annoy me but close enough for people to reach through the slats of the fence and pet if they so choose. And since I hate all furry animals equally, I will not so choose.
“You’re going to have a blast!” Mary Lou tells us as she starts walking backwards, away from us. “And like my shirt says: Relax, and don’t mind the poop!”
With that, she turns and practically skips over towards the fenced-in area, and the power of Eric’s fingers, still laced through mine, starts to wane.
* * *
“Look, I’m not any happier about this than you are. Let’s just agree to get along and get this over with as fast as possible. Got it? Good.”
Eric’s laughter has me whipping my head in his direction and glaring at him. He’s on his yoga mat on all fours, just like me, with a twenty-four-pound pygmy goat on his back, just like me. Except his goat is tan-and-white and alternates between lovingly rubbing his furry face against the back of Eric’s head and curling up for a nap on his spine. The asshole on my back, who is all black with just one small white spot in between its eyes that I’m certain is the sign of the devil, alternates between angrily stomping her hooves between my shoulder blades and screaming in my ear.
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t understand a word you’re saying. Just relax, breathe deeply and find your center,” Eric says with a smile as he slowly drops his ass back to his feet with his arms stretched out in front of him in Child’s Pose while that fucking goat of his just lies there calmly and rests his chin on his tiny little goat feet.
“Fuck you and fuck your center. She understands me. She understands me just fine,” I mutter, craning my neck to look back over my shoulder and glare at the farm animal on my back.
“BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” she screams right into my ear, angrily stomping her hoof into my back.
“GODDAMN IT!” I shout, jerking my body to try and throw the damn thing off me.
She doesn’t budge. She just digs her hooves in harder and continues to goat scream at the top of her lungs.
“Princess Sassy Pants, are you giving Ariel a hard time?”
I hear Eric snort next to me when Mary Lou shouts this from a few rows of people over.
“There is nothing funny about this,” I say to Eric through clenched teeth as I hold myself up on my hands and knees and try to remain perfectly still before the stupid goat tries to paralyze me.
“The fact that you got paired up with a goat named Princess Sassy Pants who is giving you a run for your money in the attitude department is nothing but pure enjoyment for me,” Eric informs me as he shifts back up on all fours and slowly lifts one of his arms and one of his legs straight out in a Balancing Table Pose while his goat continues napping on his back. “Isn’t that right, Prince Hot Stuff?”
I roll my eyes when he looks back over his shoulder at his sleeping goat.
“You paid off the owner of this farm and gave him that name, didn’t you? And forced this she-beast on me just to torture me,” I grumble, staring around in aggravation at all the people in different poses.
After we were given a half hour of instruction of basic poses, they left us to our own devices to practice whichever moves we felt comfortable doing with our goats. Some are sitting cross-legged just cuddling their goats, and some are doing more difficult poses while their goats walk around them, easily jumping on and off their backs when the moment arises.
“Are you saying my nickname should be Prince Hot Stuff? Because I’m perfectly fine with you calling me that from now on,” Eric says, giving me a cheeky smile and a wink.
