The Ugly Bones

Was I put upon this earth to be thus tormented? Is the Unspecific Deity playing the role of Magnus Inquisitor? To lose Suki is bad enough, but to have those unfulfilled needs teased out by an unattainable other is torture itself. Disdaining my new enthusiasm, I went back to the port, searching for my beloved Suki. The official being entirely unsympathetic to my plight, and the record of my claim for one lost goat having been apparently mislaid, I endeavoured to locate Suki after hours, aided only by the dim light of the moon and a weak torch.
The port was in a singularly unprepossessing part of town. The authorities, sensing the opportunity to enrich themselves, had seen fit to move all the local reprobates and inebriates into the area and fleece them by levying inordinate charges on their antisocial behaviour. These dregs of humanity congregated around the port, forming themselves into confraternities named after single ruddy canines and overstuffed pigs. They caroused in packs, unaccountably pleased with their state as they stumbled noisily about, shamelessly dressed in defiance of the climate and oblivious to the proximity of deep water.
Judiciously skirting these marauding tribes, I investigated the structures suitable for the containment of livestock. Most of these were policed by a sole character, comically dressed in an attempt at formal wear indubitably dreamed up by an intellectually-starved imagination, who granted passage with a curious tilting of the head accompanied by an arching of the eyebrows. Inside was all light and noise, accompanied by the incessant yakking of dumb beasts, secure in the knowledge that their interlocutors could neither hear nor care for their inane braying. Amongst this crowd of insensate beasts I was not likely to find my cultured Suki. I attempted to exit the barn, but the inhabitants lacked a regard for personal space characteristic of creatures that have spent their entire lives couped up together, and I could not remove myself from the site without a certain amount of unwelcome frisson.
My mind a smidgen excited by the dizzying son et lumiere, I resolved to return to my hut and extract the instrument I had kept shrouded since my arrival in this accursed land. In my home village I had been considered quite the virtuoso, having spent much of my teenage years ensconced in my room practising. The sound of my exertions had brought many offers to accompany me from passers by, but I had always steadfastly maintained that my best performances were solo. That was until I met my fiance, who initially marvelled at my technique but soon demanded to become part of the music making. Though I felt obliged to accede to her demands, I always quietly resented her coming between me and my instrument.
I had decided tonight to ease my heart by composing a mournful ditty to Suki in a minor key. Strumming away, I imagined the shaggy coat of my wished-for capra; yet the lilting melody and engaging rhythm demanded more. Of course there was the cleft hoof, the horny protuberance and uncanny tuft to envisage, the slit pupil that fixes one's attention. Such longing would not bring her to me, I knew, but I half- entertained the heresy that, having failed to secure her by conventional means, my song may lead my beloved to me. I am chastened to say that the sad tune, accompanied by an ever-increasing tempo, transported my imagination to a an unholy realm. In my mind's eye Suki's matted coarse coat became spun gold, receding to a tight bun atop her skull to reveal her sinewy flesh now fattened, smooth and pink, her eyes widened to dark pools, and her hooves cracked into delectable digits which grasped me and drew me toward her. This was not my goat-friend at all but an intoxicating vision of the coffeehouse Lenore. Yet, despite the fearsome transformation, I could not resist her embrace, her warm breath upon my neck and the ferocious heat that emanated from her being, and I relinquished all, collapsing a spent force upon the floor.