Goat Uprising: Curious Tales of Christmas

The blood of my brothers stain the moulds. I'm tossing and turning in the middle of night as these bleats echo in my subconscious. This is 2018 and we're still living under man's tyranny. Their disgusting ways and love for destruction annoys me to the bones. My nights are always cut short, sleep evades my torrid soul, my brothers quiver in fear and die by the hands of these monsters.

These bleats will not go unpunished, my people have been reduced to meat and beasts of burden, we harmlessly graze, feeding in silence and roam the earth with love. Our droppings fertilize the moulds in which these monsters grow their food, our milk nourishes their belly and is used for beauty products. Yet what do we get in return? We are bred like meat, treated with contempt and our women are raped by weirdos like @amirtheawesome1.

Its the festive period again and they're at it. Murdering us in our numbers in the name of food. These bastards think they can get away this, singing Christmas songs, drinking eggnog and acting gay. Our time cometh, the year of the goat. We will arm ourselves and our bleats will be the last thing they here before they die. We will impale their women with our horns and enslave their children; we cannot eat their men, they'll be our slaves. Beware the year of the Goat comes.

I nominate @diebitch and @amirtheawesome1 to make entries.