"I'll get your mummy for you, then," you say maliciously. The goat just stand there, on your doorstep, staring you down like it's its doorstep. "It's my doorstep, you know," you say, just to make sure it knows who's who.
Then you go inside and open up your oven. The delicious smell of roast goat wafts over you. You lick your lips, but first, you have a duty to do.
You take the goat out of the oven and put it on a platter. Then, you take it over to the goat outside.
"Here you go," you say, grinning evilly. The goat stares at it for a few breathless seconds, then...