Tack! Roco puts his glass down on the table. He looks at the two figures sitting on the table in front of him. Slowly his face turns into a smile.

“This is it lads. The big one! I have never heard of a better plan. This night will go down in history as the night that @PaddyPitruzzello, little Waka and Don Roco outsmarted the world.”

Paddy smiles from ear to ear. Now that he is the new consigliere this is the break he wanted: to show his worth to Roco and the rest of the Chicago GOATS. He looks to his right. Little Waka slumped over about an hour ago but Paddy is proud of his little partner.

“You did so well until the second bottle of Whiskey boy”, Paddy whispers.

“So, when do we go to HyperVentilate boss?”, he adds in the direction of Roco.

“Fuck it! How about right fucking now? That thick headed grandpa has no idea what he is in for!”

“You got it boss. What do you want to do with Keith? We cannot leave him alone here, you know what he did to poor Peter yesterday.”

“Let’s leave a note for Ubercorn, he should be here any moment now”

Roco looks at the light starting to stream in through the window. They spend all of the night scheming but he doesn’t feel tired at all. The knowledge of catching their big break has him buzzing with energy. He quickly writes a note and leaves it on the table and stands up. 

* * *

Take care of Keith

Roco.

* * *

On the way up Roco’s knees pop and crack like they are the opening act of some grand show... and in some odd way they actually are.
 
“Paddy”

“Yes Boss?”

“When you have put your pants back on, can you carry Waka to the GOAT cart?”

“Aye”

Paddy dragged Waka up from his slumped seating position and throws him over his shoulder. He waddled along in his usual manner singing to himself.

"We're off to see the Hyper, The wonderful Hyper of all.."

His song fades as Roco watches him disappear around the corner. Roco picks up his jacket and slings it over his shoulder. He surveys the pile of discarded whiskey bottles and hiccups. Smiling he thinks about the Chicago GOATS and the living legends they are. Quickly he clicks his heels together three times.

"There really is no place like home."

He darts out of the room when he hears the clip clop of Ubercorn approaching. Roco cannot deal with him today, not today, not on the day they all would become richer than God.

Roco stumbles out of the entrance to the Headquarters. He is so elegant and majestic. He waves to SaraMoore who promptly disappears into the shadows, appreciates the goats casually wandering the compound and nods to Llew who is covered in dirt and holding a shovel.

"That man needs help. He will not stop, maybe he can't stop. Oh well maybe one day he will find what he is looking for", Roco mumbles.

Paddy throws Waka into the back of the goat cart along with the other props for the "presentation". It looks like everything they need is there. He smiles to himself looking at the fully loaded cart and goats awaiting to pull the cart. Its amazing what you can get done in such a short amount of time. 

He climbs into the cart, pats paddy on the head, whips up the goats and heads to Hyper's place in search of greatness and glory.

A few minutes later

The GOAT cart comes to a screeching halt in front of a big skyscraper. The sudden change in speed flings the still sleeping Waka out of the cart and slaps him face-down into a pool of watery mud on the side of the road.

“ghrrrghggfguch uch”

“What is that laddie?”, Paddy asks.

“I think that is the sound of someone fighting for his life in a 5" deep pool Paddy”, Roco answers.

Paddy looks at the spectacle in front of him. Wild flurries catapult water and mud across the street, the boy seems in complete panic. 

After a few moments Roco puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles hard.

“Pweeehpweeh, oi! Malcom! Fetch the poor boy will ya”

One of the goats in the first lines of the cart throws off his carriage harness and bolts towards Waka. With a quick nip and drag the boy is turned onto his back. Deep wheezing breaths follow.

“Let’s go lad, no time for laziness. It’s time to become filthy rich!”

The boy struggles to his feet and quickly hurries after Paddy and Roco who are already moving towards the central doors at the base of the massive building.

“HALT! Who do you think you are and why do you deserve an audience with our beloved godfather?”

In front of them stands a well dressed woman. She postures up and swings a huge shotgun over her shoulder. She clearly is not impressed with what she sees in front of her.

On the left side stands a man she vaguely recalls hearing about. Some say he is a drifter, others straight out call him a madman.

“PaddyWanker, I presume.”

“Almost, PaddyPitruzzello is the name, miss…?”

“JoJoStiletto”.

Her gaze moves to the right. In the middle of the three visitors stands a man she knows well. 

“Dear Roco, lord of the GOATS. To what do we owe this… pleasure?”

“We have a business proposal for HyperVentilate JoJo. Let us in.”

“No can do Roco, you know the rules. Only if you know the password you are allowed an audience with the king of Chicago and only if you are supposed to have one you know the password.”

With a self righteous smile JoJo looks at the disappointment in Roco’s face. She entertains herself by moving on to the last unfortunate soul in Roco’s party but at the sight of the individual her jaw drops. 

In front of her stands a ten, maybe eleven, year old boy. The boy looks like he has not slept all night, got run over by a freight train and swam through a mile of goat shit to get here. 

“Using child soldiers now eh Roco?”

The boy growls at the disrespect the woman is showing to Don Roco.

“What is he… a feral child?”

Waka spits right in front of JoJo on the ground. Roco reacts lightning fast. He pulls back his left hand and whips it across Waka’s back.

“BAM!”

A loud crack snaps through the air. Most likely from the rib that just gave way in Waka thin back.

“Do not get out of line Waka. If you do things this stupid you can get us all killed.”

Roco looks at his young crew member sternly, expecting a quick apology. The boy however looks to be in a difficult disposition. The broken rib seems to have punctured one of his lungs and the boy is gasping for breath. 

“S- or- ry boss”

Waka’s breath comes in quick rasp as he fights to stay upright. In the meanwhile JoJo’s facial expression changes.

“What are you doing boy? Are you… are you hyperventilating?”

The boy looks scared at this point, not sure how to react to the sudden change in demeanor.

“How do you know? How do you know?”

“What are you japping about missy?”, Paddy reacts.

“The password, it’s the password”

Roco smiles. 

“Good job Waka, I knew you’d be a useful asset when I made you. Now let us in JoJo, your game is done”

“Welcome to home of the king of Chicago Roco”

JoJo states rather theatrically as she steps aside with a disturbed look on her face. Roco and the strange party steps into the main lobby of godfather HyperVentilate's HQ.

The crew makes their way to the audience chamber. When they arrive in front of the massive double doors they stand in awe. The doors in front of them are made out of white marble decorated with swirls of gold and flowers made out of diamonds. The three look at each other nervously.

“This is it boys, let’s get paid.”

Roco puts his hands on each of the doors and leans into them. Slowly but surely the doors start giving way and open smoothly. They enter the royal audience chamber. A long red carpet leads up to a grand dais at the end of the room. The room itself is square and the ceiling contains a large vide, or opening. Around the edges are balconies which seem to be brimming with courtiers, eagerly peeking down to see who the newly entered individuals are.

On the dais stands a big throne and on it sits an even bigger man. The man seems to be breathing heavily and into an ominous looking breathing device.

“Ghhhhhh, goooogggghhhhh. Hello Roco from the South Side. What can I do for you today?”

Roco smiles and raises his right arm towards Paddy.

“Hello old friend, my new consigliere will explain”

“Ghhhh, goooooogggggghhhh. Who… are…. you?”

The godfather looks in Paddy's direction with only a thin sliver of interest.

Paddy steps forward and raises his hands. He spins around on the ball of his feet and looks up at all the hidden faces on the balconies. Then, with the grace of a drunk dancer he stops and stares the godfather dead in the eye.

“I am everyone’s bastard stepchild they beat”

The man on the throne seems to choke on something and then looks up at Paddy again.

“We are here today to ask you for a favor, dear godfather. As we all know you have won quite a big sum of money in the lottery. Forty three million, nine hundred and forty thousand two hundred and forty eight dollars to be exact.”

Paddy snaps his finger to Waka and the little boy springs into action. From behind the three crew members he drags an easel towards Paddy and props it up next to him.

“We are in dire need of some cold hard cash. “The South Side of Chicago is overrun with goats but not just normal goats. Special needs goats”.

As Paddy lays out the situation Waka drags a sheet of paper from behind him and flips it over the easel. On the paper are complicated graphs, formulas and snippets of news articles. Some labels can be made out from the balcony and read “# special needs goats”, “goat aids spreading to crew members” and “elephantiasis on his balls”.

“Quickly bring me exhibit C boy!”, Paddy shouts

Waka rummages around in the exhibit cart and with an excited squeal pulls out something big. He steps forward and puts the object next to the easel. A sound of shock resonates throughout the audience chamber.

Next to the easel stands a taxidermy mount of a big white goat. The godfather gasps.

“Ghhhh, goooooogggggghhh. That... is… Peter. But… where is his leg?”

“Exactly. This is the type of stuff we are dealing with on the South Side. It is the handy work of Keith, one of the more needy special needs goats we have and as you can see he cannot be left alone. We really need cold hard cash to combat this type of behavior.”

“Ghhhh… goooooooogggggh. How much do you need?”

Paddy looks back at Roco who stands silently a few meters to the back and left of Paddy. As their eyes meet Roco nods.

“Ten million dollars”

After Paddy lets out the number another, an even bigger shock resonates through the chamber. A bustle ignites and for a few moments the chamber seems to be more alive then the South Side central station on a Monday morning. 

“SILENCE!”

The room goes absolutely still. The Godfather's heavy breathing is the only sound that can be heard.

The large chamber seemingly stands still in time. Nothing could be heard except the muffled breaths of the goliath Godfather. Roco looks to Waka and Paddy. Their faces tense and brows furrowed. He was almost the forgotten man in the room. In fact, he was the forgotten man in the streets. Too long had been remained silent. He could no longer continue to live on his father’s legacy. It was about he returned to the streets and forged his own legacy. Roco steps forward confidently and clears his throat.

“If I may Godfather, I am certainly not a smartly dressed man.”

Roco smirked.

“Nor do I want to be. I am the GoatFather and if you will allow me I would like a moment of your time to talk to you from the heart about the goats.”

HyperVentilate gestured for Roco to continue.

“You see sir, you know I was born into the goats, I am the goats, nay we are the goats.”

Roco looks at Paddy and Waka and nods. Those mad men he thought to himself. He wouldn’t change them for the world.

“We come to you to ask for your support because we know you are a kind man at heart. What we ask is a few million dollars to help better the lives of some of these poor creatures. As we both know Chicago is growing, and more and more flock to visit here each day. Some of these visitors are from other fine cities, others intend to make this place home. We need to ensure that the sight that greets them is one of joy and happiness. Not one of sorrow and pain. This world can at times be filled with pain, sadness and hurt. The Chicago GOATS are trying to bring some fun and laughter to this world. Talk to leaders like Alexia0527 and you will see the joy that goats can bring.”

Roco smiles as he thinks about some of the goats he gave to the world. In particular, the boisterous Buster who was running amuck in Detroit and the elegant Elvira who was prancing proudly around Las Vegas.

 “Increasingly there is a movement towards the desire to eat our goats. This is no something that I can allow. These goats are our family, and you don’t eat family. So, I ask you Godfather, to spare some funds to help goats like Peter here, goats like Keith and Goatzilla. Without your help, these goats will falter, and they will die”.

Roco spins his tattered goat-chewed fedora in his hands and approaches the Godfather. He reaches out his hand to the Godfather.

“Take my hand my friend and help us. We need you, Godfather. We need you more than you know”

Roco stands and waits. His eyes glisten as he looks up at the Godfather. It is now or never. What will the almighty HyperVentilate decide? Will he step forth and accept the goats or will he remain silent and leave the goats to their faith?

Buster was a gift from Roco that Rain inherited. Unlike the dog she once had Buster was a true companion. He doesn’t bark, chew up your shoes or drag his ass on the carpet. 

However,  he does have his bad habits.  He loves cannabis wheat muffins, eats a few mushrooms and snorts cocaine, but other than that he’s prefect.

Contrary to what some believe he has never run amuck in Detroit.  There was one incident that occurred in Mrs. Bishop flower garden.  Buster was just strolling along when Mrs. Bishop sees a goat in her flower garden. The bitch went berserk, ran screaming in the house.  Bishop being the smart goat he is walked slowly backs to the pen Rain had made for him, closes the gate and placed the hatch down to lock it back again.

When the cops knock on Rain’s door with Mrs. Bishop, they all walked outside to find Buster locked in his pen.  The politely apologized and assumed Mrs. Bishop had been drinking again.