there was a man who had a goat. this goat was like any other goat. it could eat tin cans and do complex algorithms with little or no paperwork. one day, while the goat was walking around in circles, the man chucked a piece of polyethylene glycol at it — thereby pissing the goat off. the goat proceeded to calculate the precise velocity and trajectory required to kill the man, and promptly did so with the highly effective use of a broken axe handle. upon collecting the insurance from the deceased, the goat used the monies and chattels inherited thus to subsidize the liquefication of tin cans into liquid tin. this liquid tin was then poured into a vat that measured five cubits by ten fathoms and left to dry overnight. when the morning of the third day began the lord goat arose rather later than usual, scratched himself vigorously and exited his lunar bunker and/or ewe-harem. and lo, when the lord goat looked upon his handiwork and saw the perfection that it was he spake saying ‘Behold what I hath made in mine own desire — a craft work of amaze and agape. It shall be called Croûton as a sign of my covenant with thee. and ye shall worship it and provide it with ten she-goats and ten ewes daily, else thy will be smote upon by broken axe handles and brimstone. yea verily i saw this unto thee that any of ye whoso forsakes his tithe shall be smote upon for being rather lewd.’ thus did the world enter into the Age of the Goat. at least until three o’clock that afternoon when a small child named Gumbo threw a broken axe handle at the lord goat, smiting him vigorously even unto unconsciousness. immediately thereafter the people made a sacrifice of the lord goat in their ignorance, and had some really yummy goat curry.