Have you ever sat with a vibrant, shimmering, neon blue goat while sitting at a table in Donny's? Lemme tell ya, it ain't pretty. Oh, the GOAT is kinda pretty, but the mechanics of getting said goat into the seat are convoluted and kooky. Dude has a tail, man! Here's the thing: if the tail is folded up, then his...you know...is directly on the seat, and THAT can't be good, but if you curl the tail under, why then the wiggly thing is bent in such a way that, well, ya gotta believe it CAN'T feel very good so we went through about fifteen minutes worth of gyrations and calisthenics and wacky ballet to fit this stinking goat in the seat. I mean, picture it! A goat! With hooves! Blue! Stinking! At first they weren't gonna let us in the place but after I slipped the pimple-faced bastard a five spot and a old Milky Way I had in my coat pocket, he let us through the Golden Arches. Then the whole sitting thing. THEN he starts telling me this story of his life. Bob shoulda been with us but he was sawing logs back at the compound, and who can blame him? At one point Naaaango put down his coffee and asked about Bob. I think the little fellah is kinda fond of ol' Bob. Will Bob be with us for breakfast, says Naaaango. Will he, Phfrankie? Probly, I says. Cool, says Naaaang'. He told me to call him Naaaang'. Man, I gotta git some better acid./font>