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I stare at the muscles rippling in his arms as he lowers his body to the ground, and I let out an aggravated huff when he’s lying flat on his stomach with his elbow on the mat and his chin propped up in his hand.
“BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
Another scream from Princess Sassy Pants makes me wince and angrily whip my head around to shoot her another glare.
“Listen, Sassy Ass. Let’s call a truce. You agree to stop screaming in my ear and digging your hooves into my back, and I’ll agree not to chop you up into tiny pieces, deep fry you, and have little delicious goat bites for dinner later.”
We have a stare down for a few seconds, and then she snorts and lets out the quietest baaaah I’ve heard out of her mouth in the last hour. She huffs, then plops down onto my back, curls up, and closes her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I whisper. “You’re my bitch.”
Right when I feel like I might be able to find some sort of Zen for the remaining minutes of the class, Eric suddenly lets out a loud, girly, ear-piercing scream. I turn my head to see him jump up from his mat and watch Prince Hot Stuff go tumbling ass over end off of his back and onto the grass.
“MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH!” Eric shouts, shaking his arms, his legs, and his entire body as he jogs in place, twisting and turning and trying to look over his shoulder at something on his back. “HE SHIT ON ME! THAT FUCKING GOAT SHIT ON ME!”
My eyes widen in shock and my mouth drops open as Eric continues to flail all over the place. Little balls of goat poop drop from the back of his shirt onto the grass, which just causes Eric to shout and curse even more.
“Relax! And don’t mind the poop!” Mary Lou shouts over to Eric with a big smile on her face.
I immediately collapse onto my stomach, laughing so hard my eyes fill with tears. Princess Sassy Pants steps off my back and curls up next to me on my mat. I wrap my arm around her and continue laughing, both of us looking over at Eric when he finally stops bouncing around all over the place and crosses his arms over his chest in annoyance.
“It’s not that funny,” he complains.
“You’re right. Totally not funny at all,” I reply, trying my hardest to contain my laughter. But it’s no use. It bubbles right out of me and I smile up at him as I run my palm down Princess Sassy Pants’s head.
“Just relax, breathe deeply, and find your center,” I tell him in a sweet, placating voice, repeating what he said to me earlier.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
“Watching a goat shit on you is nothing but pure enjoyment for me,” I say, batting my eyelashes and giving him a taste of his own stupid medicine.
Mary Lou walks over to us a few minutes later, handing Eric his very own hot pink GOGA shirt so he doesn’t have go home wearing a T-shirt with goat shit on it. Scratching Princess Sassy Pants behind her ears, I swear I hear her let out a little goat sigh when he pulls his T-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side.
“I hear ya, sister,” I whisper in her ear as he quickly pulls the GOGA shirt on, picking up his dirty shirt from the ground between his thumb and forefinger and walking it over to a garbage can next to the fence gate.
Sure, I was skeptical at first and it took a while for me to get into it, but I think I just might like goat yoga. I feel very centered and relaxed.
Looks like I am well on my way to getting back my self-confidence.
Chapter 10: Hashtag Poop Dance
I can’t help but smile to myself as I walk across the parking lot towards the boat dock, and it’s all because of my annoying neighbor, who is turning out to not be as annoying as I initially thought.
After our GOGA class the other day, we both got busy with work and haven’t had a chance to see each other, but he’s been texting me nonstop, sending me pictures of Derrick Alfredo. Dozens of pictures of his devil cat wearing one ridiculous sweater after another, asking me which one makes him look the manliest.
The hell beast is growing on me. And so is the cat.
When I woke up this morning, I had a moment of panic realizing that with everything that happened in the last week, I completely forgot to go back to the county courthouse to file our small-business-license paperwork. Taking a page out of Belle’s self-help, self-confidence bullshit, I checked off another item on her list: Dress nicely.
