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But Apathy Goat? Apathy Goat doesn't give a fuck.
It was just another evening of existential crisis in the barn when the first wave hit. The roar of distant cities being wasted by a torrent of space debris was almost muffled by the heavy rain."Global Wording is right on our doorstep," the tabloids had read. Some alien force was using the power of their own language against them, raining down death emblazoned with whatever page they landed on in the Oxford English.
Apathy Goat watched the sky light up with fire through the open barn window, ignoring the pattering of rain upon his nose. Everything was burning down out there. He wondered if the bottle shop would be shut tomorrow.
Shit in town has gone to Hell in a handbasket! How could WORDS be killing the very people who created them? As usual, the government is failing to act, with the sandy-eyed politicians still suggesting the evidence of Global Wording is anecdotal at best.
But of all people, you know how to deal with words. You've spilt your share of lexical blood in the databases of your uncle's online vegetable shop--their veritable graveyard. Like the windowless makeshift office at the back of his farmhouse, there's only one way out of this.
You grab your keyboard, whistle for your goat and head for the ute.