(The closing sentence for this story was suggested by Pleasant Street!)
They say the devil sometimes takes on the guise of a goat. Kristian knew this with certitude. He had been driving along a lonely country road at night when he stopped to pick up an apparently lost hitchhiker.
“Where are you heading?” asked Kristian.
“Anywhere where there’s a roof over my head,” said the hitchhiker.
The hitchhiker got into the car. As he drove along, Kristian noticed something strange; his passenger wasn’t wearing shoes and had cloven hoofs. Gradually the passenger changed into the entire aspect of a goat.
“I’m letting you out here,” said Kristian, bringing his car to a stop.
“No you’re not,” said the goat. “I’m coming home with you.”
Upon arriving home, Kristian’s wife, Karen, was beside herself. “We don’t want another pet. Where did you get this hideous creature from?” Kristian sensed that the goat didn’t like Karen very much. But the goat was there to stay.
Over the next several years the goat became a major attraction in the village; after all, they make lovely pets. Little children would bring it treats. People passing by couldn’t resist giving it a pat. The goat grew to be more and more popular. Then it became an obsession with the townsfolk. Before you knew it, a rumour began that the goat was obsessively attractive because Karen was a witch; a real witch who should be burned at the stake.
Karen knew it was either going to be her or the goat, and the townspeople seemed to be cheering for the goat.