Travis, my brother in off-brand pagan christ. [ jerry rocks up, slaps a hand on travis's blessedly not yet urine soaked shoulder, and pats him there like they're about to start a prayer circle or acapella gospel song. ] You and I both know goats are chaos agents summoned by Satan's left butthole. There's no logic or reason here.

[ tying them up, imprisoning them, luring them with tasty treats or shoelaces. there's only one rule when it comes to goats: wake up and choose violence, every single day. to find a goat, one must think like a goat. he gazes out into the distance, at one of the passing twisters accused of goat-nabbing. ]

We gotta follow those fuckers over the rainbow.

[ like Aladdin inviting Jasmine onto the magic carpet, he extends a hand to Travis with deep, soulful eyes, and a slightly less Disney-rated smolder. ] Do you trust me?