Morgan stared at the goat, its creepy rectangular eyes squinting at her with impatience. “Well, at least you’re not green anymore.” In response the goat bleated its anger, something it had been doing constantly and loudly for the last half hour.  “Though I have to say that the green fur contrasted nicely with your yellow eyes.”

The goat bleated its objections once again  

Morgan broke into a sweat. Her entrance into the Academy of Fairy Godmothers rested on this.  “I remove your goatness!” Morgan traced the sigil in the air with her wand. The goat waited a moment and then bleated at an ear splitting level before giving her a small head-butt to the leg. Not enough to harm her, but enough to get his point across.

She bent down to the smelly creature and whispered in its ear. “If you don’t cooperate with me, you’ll be stuck making cheese for the rest of your miserable life.”

“Male goats don’t make cheese, Miss Morgan.” The headmistress, a plump woman in blue robes stood next to her, her wand held loosely in her hand and her expression unreadable.

“I…” Morgan felt the flush of embarrassment rise. “I knew that.”

“Relax, child. Think of your sigil. What was his request, and what was your spell?”

Morgan closed her eyes and focused the shape of the sigil, repeating the incantation. There was a flash of light, and Bret Favre stood shouting at her. “I said I wanted to be THE goat, not A goat!