THE THREE GOATS – STORYTELLER READS

Once upon a time there were three goats.

There was the Littlest Kid, called Kiddy-kid

There was Big Mama Goat.

And there was Big, Big Papa Goat.

The three goats lived on a mountain slope. Beneath the mountain a wide and long river flowed.

On the other side of the river lay a beautifully grassy hill covered in cloves and all sorts of colorful  flowers.

There the grass was greener and juicier than anywhere else in the world.

The three goats often stood and admired the beautiful hill across the river. Boy, would it be wonderful to be able to chew on this green, magnificent grass.

But in order to reach the beautiful, green slope the goats had to go over a narrow wooden bridge. And beneath that bridge lived a gruesome, cruel and ugly troll. 

One day the tiny Kiddy-kid said:

I can’t take this anymore. I want to eat the good grass on the beautiful slope on the other side of the river. I’m going to cross the bridge.

We’ll follow behind you, said Mama goat and Papa goat. We’ll cross the bridge as well.

The tiny Kiddy-kid tip toed onto the bridge. Tip, tap, tip, tap the bridge went.

Then the troll shouted:

Who’s that tip-toeing across my bridge?

Then tiny Kiddy-kid mumbled in a voice so low it could barely be heard:

It’s just me, tiny Kiddy-kid.

Then the troll rumbled:

I’m coming up there to eat you.
Then tiny Kiddy-kid became really scared and sighed:

No, don’t do that. Bigger goats than me will follow in just a moment.

They are way fatter than me. Wait for them.

Well, okay then, answered the troll, licking his lips in anticipation. You may pass.

Then tiny Kiddy-kid ran as fast as it could across the bridge.  Right to the green and grassy slope.

Now Mama goat also wanted to go over the bridge.

Plump-plump-plump, the bridge went. Mama goat was heavier than Kiddy-kid so the sound of the bridge was louder.

Who’s that plumping across my bridge? The troll bellowed.

It’s only me, Mama goat.

I’m coming up to eat you right now, the troll thundered. 

Noooo, No Mama goat stuttered, terrified and trembling. More goats will follow. They are far fatter  than I am.

Well, okay then, the troll mumbled as he licked his lips, looking forward to enjoying a much fatter goat.

You may cross the bridge.

Mama goat wasted no time and without hesitation ran over to the grassy slope.

Then big, big Papa goat stepped onto the bridge. Thump-thump-thump the bridge went.
The bridge shook and wobbled because of the weight.

Who’s thumping like that on my bridge? The troll bellowed so loud it could be heard miles away.

It’s me, Papa goat, Papa goat answered in a dark and deep voice.

I guess you’re going to tell me I should wait for an even bigger and fatter goat, the Troll roared.

No, not at all, Papa goat answered. I am by far the biggest and fattest goat.

Then I’m coming up to eat you, right now, the Troll screamed.

Please do, said big, big Papa goat. Come now.
Big Papa goat put down his head and ran down the ugly, cruel Troll, with all his force and the toughest of horns. The Troll was thrown into the river and disappeared.

And from then on the three goats crossed the bridge whenever they felt like it. They started eating the green and juicy grass on the beautiful hill whenever they wanted something delicious to chew on.
They never saw the terrifying Troll again.