Sundown came to the compound and there I am stuck with a vibrant, shimmering blue goat. Bob said Lucy shouldn't of oughta ate the tuna casserole, because Lucy should be eating the DRY, but he got over it and the goat got some chow and Bob had a beer or two and it SEEMED like everything was settling down to normal, for having a blue goat on the couch. I say "seemed" because as soon as Bob went to his cabin, the goat looked at me and said, plain as day, as if he was speaking to the Commonwealth Club, he says Pssst...Phfrank...my name is Naaango and if I don't get back to my peeps, chop-chop, there's gonna be trouble. What kind of trouble, I ask. Well, he says, in all seriousness, the gang will come looking for me, with their croquet mallets, and all hell's gonna break loose. These guys are NOT NICE, Naaango says. They are from a lost tribe of The Blues and they're gonna want to thump the shit outta Bob, and probably you too. Git me outta here, Phfrankie! I'll call Ken, I says. Nooooooooooo Phfrankie, noooooooo! Not Ken! But Naaaango, I says, Ken can help. Noooooooo Phfrankie, Noooooooooo!