Larry the Angry Llama

Mac stood a few feet back from Larry's pen. Not far enough away to be out of the llama's spitting range, but far enough to engage his makeshift shield before getting assaulted with green sputum. Mac adjusted his goggles as Larry approached the fence, still chewing furiously with an angry look in his eyes.

"What's up, you little snowflake bitch?" said the llama.

Mac sighed. "Larry, we've discussed this, bro. The fact that I don't believe people of color are less human than white people doesn't make me a snowflake bitch."

"Oh yeah?" said the llama. "Then what does it make you?"

Mac stood, blinking, careful not to make any sudden movements before speaking. "Well," he said, his finger resting on the button to release and open the umbrella. "For starters, it makes me not a piece of shit, unlike yourself." Mac successfully predicted what came next and had pushed the umbrella's button the moment he finished his sentence. The umbrella extended with a click and a thwump that was instantly followed by the sound of phlegm hitting the umbrella's vinyl fabric.

Mac knelt with the umbrella close to his body, like a spartan shield, deflecting enemy projectiles. He was, in theory, deflecting enemy projectiles. Only these missiles weren't arrows or spears. It was cud. Which, according to Mac's Google research, was "partly digested food returned from the first stomach of ruminants to the mouth for further chewing." Mac didn't even know what the hell a ruminant was until he brought the llama to the farm. He learned ruminants were cattle, deer, goats, and finally, camelids.

That's what Larry was. A loogie-hocking asshole cousin of the camel. Just one of the many facts Mac discovered in his llama research. Another fun thing he learned was just how far llamas could spit, which was 10-15 feet. Larry could spit further than that and could do so with deadly accuracy.

"Come out and take your medicine, you hairless dickbag!" Larry yelled.

"Larry," said Mac, growing more impatient with each barrage of spit. "I have tried incredibly hard to empathize with your upbringing, but sweet Christ, do you make this difficult!" The response to his statement was another jet of liquid striking the umbrella's fabric.

"Funny you should mention our Lord and Savior because the bible says that the white man should inherit the Earth!"

"Larry, no, it does not. Cut that shit out." The llama attempted to shift sideways and spit from a different angle, but Mac was ready. He shifted when Larry shifted and crouched when he spit at his feet. This time, Mac was ready. He had done this dance with Larry too many times to not know his moves by now. He could feel less mucus hitting the umbrella with each stream and knew the creature was running low on ammo.

"Cursed be the son of Ham!" said Larry.

"What the fuck are you on about now?"

"That's what Noah said in the bible! Ham was one of his son's and his descendants became black."

"Larry, not only is that the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard, but it's also wrong on several levels."

"You don't know anything about the good book!" Larry's statement was punctuated with another jet of spit.

"I was raised southern baptist. I had all 66 books of the good word branded onto my brain," said Mac flatly.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I know it better than you do, and that Ham descendant shit isn't anywhere in it."

"Yes, it is! My owners were true God-fearing folks and read their favorite parts of it out loud for everyone to hear!"

"Let me guess. Judges, Job, Revelations, probably a Leviticus or two, and Genesis." The llama gasped, and the spitting ceased. Mac kept his umbrella deployed but peeked over the top of the now phlegm-soaked vinyl. He saw Larry standing in the same spot, but his mouth had stopped moving angrily.

The llama stood there, his jaw slack with a wide-eyed expression. "Those were almost all of their favorite books. How did you know that?"

"Because objectively speaking, that's when God is at his most hardcore and angry in the bible. I told you. I was raised southern baptist."

Larry squinted suspiciously. "But you're a heathen atheist."

"Technically, I'm agnostic, but I know more about the Christian Bible than you do, you wooly twat!" Mac ducked expectantly behind his umbrella as more mucus struck the vinyl. He had wanted to make sure Larry was empty before carrying on his conversation, and it now seemed that he was. Mac poked his head back out and lifted his goggles to his forehead.

"Larry, just because I'm no longer a believer in Christianity doesn't mean I don't believe in some of its lessons."

The llama squinted again. "What lessons?"

Mac had his favorite story from the bible already in mind. "The book of Luke, chapter 10, verses 25-37."

"Sound's made up," replied Larry."

"It's called the Parable of the Good Samaritan, and if you stop fucking spitting at me for two minutes, I'll tell it to you. You once told me your favorite part of the day was when your old owners would walk around loudly reading from the bible, right?"

"Yes," said Larry, a suspicious look still etched on his face. "I enjoy the stories."

"Well, let me tell you this one then. And if you stop acting like a psych ward patient around here, I'll start taking the time to tell you more stories. But you have to stop being such an asshole."

"I would like to hear the story now," said Larry, the contempt beginning to fade from his voice.

Mac lowered his umbrella to his side but kept it ready if the llama got trigger happy again. "So there was this man, traveling on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho and-"

"Jerusalem?" interrupted Larry. "Doesn't that have something to do with Jews?"

"Most of Jewish history revolves around Jerusalem and a few thousand years of conflict, going on even today, but that's not what we're discussing. The llama began to speak, but Mac held up a finger. "If some anti-semitic shit comes out of your mouth, I'm not going to tell the story." Larry huffed through his nose but kept his thoughts to himself. Mac waited just in case he changed his mind.

"Now," said Mac. "Jerusalem to Jericho. This guy was traveling. You with me?"

"Why was he traveling?"

"Larry, I don't fucking know. To see the walls."

"Jericho had walls?! You see, we should build a wall at the southern border!"

Mac sighed. "Firstly, according to the bible, all it took was a few laps around the city and a handful of dudes blowing trumpets to bring those walls down, so don't fall in love with them. Secondly, that's one of the many stories I will tell you if you'll just shut up and let me finish this one." Mac gestured for the llama to add anything else, but Larry remained silent.

"So this guy was traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was beset upon by thieves."

"Beset?" queried Larry.

"Attacked."

"Oh."

"So these thieves attacked him, stripped him, and beat him within an inch of his life. They left him there on the side of the road, covered in dirt and blood. As the traveler laid there dying, a priest happened by on the same side of the road. The priest saw the man in his state, and instead of helping him, he simply crossed to the other side of the road and continued on his way."

"Why didn't he stop to help the man? The man was a servant of God!" asked the llama.

"Just because someone believes in God doesn't make them inherently good, Larry. He may have been a servant of his God, but he wasn't a good person."

"Did the man die?"

"Well, it just so happens that someone else, a Levite, happened by on the same stretch of road. A Levite was like a religious functionary. They performed different tasks at holy temples like guard duty, singing, upkeep, all of it. So, much like the priest, this guy was supposed to hold himself to a better standard. But as the Levite came upon the traveler, he too ignored the dying man and crossed the road to continue on his way."

"Why didn't he help?"

Mac shrugged, squinting at the ground as he thought on the question. "Because he couldn't be bothered," he finally said. "Because like the traveler, he was trying to get somewhere, and the dying man would have been a great burden upon him." Mac sighed again. "Because the man was filthy, probably covered in not only blood but piss and shit as well. The traveler probably looked like a waste of time, a fruitless endeavor, a lost cause."

"So the man just died, suffering like that?" Larry asked with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Well, one more person happened by, a Samaritan."

"What's a Samaritan?"

"Well, then it meant a person from a place called Samaria. So as I understand it, this Samaritan was nobody important or special. He was just a regular guy who happened to be traveling on the same road."

"Let me guess," interjected Larry. "This asshole crosses the road too."

"No," said Mac softly. "The Samaritan stopped on the side of the road. He washed the traveler, cleaned the man's wounds with oil and wine, then bandaged him up. After doing all that, the Samaritan put the traveler atop his own animal and escorted him to an inn. Once they arrived, the Samaritan purchased the traveler a room, and as he left, he gave the innkeeper enough money to cover room and food for a few nights. He told the innkeeper that whatever the man spent beyond that, he would pay for when he came back through."

Clearly confused, Larry stood silently staring at Mac. After several attempts to articulate his feelings, the llama finally settled on another question. "I get helping, but why did he do all of that? Who was he trying to impress?"

Mac smiled. "He wasn't trying to impress anyone. The Samaritan did it because he was a good person. The Samaritan had compassion for the traveler, and he acted on that compassion. Why should he stop with a half measure?" Larry had no response or retort. The llama simply stood there, pondering. "And you know what else?" asked Mac.

"What?" replied Larry.

"Recalling that story is the very reason I decided to bring a cantankerous, racist llama here to the farm."

"How in the hell do I compare to a beat-up traveler?" said Larry.

"You're both victims of circumstance," answered Mac. "Your former owners were just on the other side of the woods out back, correct?"

"Yes, correct"

"Well, I am firmly convinced that whatever the fuck gives me the ability to talk to animals is tied to the land, this land, not me. I'm just the guy that bought it." Mac stared into the distance, going over in his head what he already had a thousand times before. "I don't know if it's because I'm closer in proximity, if it's because my name's on the deed, or what the hell is going on. Maybe the animals here act a certain way because of who I am, how I think, I-"

Mac paused, still wrapping his mind around the question that plagued him perpetually. After a few seconds of reflection, he finally spoke. "I just don't fucking know, Larry." Mac shrugged. "Apparently, you and your former owners were close enough to be affected."

Larry shook his head. "I never spoke with them."

"But you clearly understood their teachings. You also soaked up a lot of their personality, which makes me hopeful that I may finally get some answers instead of constantly guessing and hoping for the best." Mac dropped the umbrella on the ground as a show of faith and continued speaking as he drew closer to the llama's enclosure.

"Back to my original point," said Mac. "You and the traveler were both victims of circumstance. There wasn't much either of you could have done to avoid the outcome." Larry remained silent as Mac went on. "I have the opportunity to help you, and I'm going to exhaust all of my efforts to do that."

"How do you plan to do that?" asked Larry.

"Did you enjoy that story I told?"

"Yes."

"Well, there are a hundred more I could tell you, but I need something in return."

The llama sighed and rolled his eyes. "What?"

"You have to start keeping the hateful shit to yourself."

"Being proud of my heritage is not-"

Mac held up a finger. "Larry, you're not a white Anglo-Saxon man. You're a fucking llama with white fur. I can't change the way you think, not yet at least, but I can keep you from saying nasty shit out loud."

"And what if I don't?" said Larry, narrowing his eyes.

"You're gone. I won't sell you because you're not my property. I will give you to whoever is willing to take you." said Mac. "I want to help you, but not at the expense of the other animals." He took his goggles completely off of his head and leaned up against the gate. "I mean, how the hell am I supposed to find you a mate if you're acting like such an asshole all the time?"

Larry tilted his head slowly, confused by Mac's question. "Find me a what?"

"A mate?" said Mac, confused as well. "A creature of the same species, generally of the opposite sex if you wish to reproduce."

"Homosexuality is-" Larry stopped himself when he saw Mac raise his eyebrows. "Nevermind, back to the thing you just said about the mate of the opposite sex."

"Yeah?"

"You're telling me that there are female llamas out there that are not my mother and sisters?"

Mac blinked slowly at the llama, dumbfounded by the creature's questions. Had he really gone through his entire life believing the only other females of his species were his relatives? "Larry," he said. "Do you know how many llamas are in the world?"

"I dunno, maybe a few hundred."

"I'm not entirely sure on the exact number, but it's more like a few hundred thousand."

"Is that a lot?"

Mac looked up thoughtfully. "Let's put it like this. There are so many of your kind that I can state with utter certainty that you're not related to 99.9% of them. You and your relatives make up a tiny portion of the llama population, so we can find you a mate with relative ease." Larry began to stomp his front feet excitedly. "But," said Mac. "That offer is conditional on you working with me."

Mac held up his index finger. "One, you can't say racist shit anymore." He held up a second finger. "Two, you can't fucking spit on me anymore." Mac pointed to the spit-soaked umbrella, and the green caked goggles. "I swear on everything I love if you ever spit in my face again, I will knock you unconscious, sheer you bald, and leave you on the side of the fucking road."

Larry started moving his lower jaw aggressively out of habit but thought better of it. "If I do as you say, you'll keep reading me stories and find me a mate?"

"Yes."

"What if I don't believe the things you're trying to teach me."

Mac shrugged. "As long as you're not conveying your beliefs out loud, I don't give a shit." He genuinely didn't either, because just getting the llama to stop spitting on him was a major victory in itself. "It begins right now, do you understand?" Larry nodded as Mac opened the gate cautiously, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He swung the gate wide open and gestured for the creature to exit his pen. "I originally came over here because we're having a farm meeting, and since you're a part of this family, I would like you to attend."

Larry's jaw dropped. "You want me to attend?"

"I do, but if one negative thing comes out of your nasty mouth, our deal is off." The llama nodded his head again, and they both walked side-by-side towards the farm animals now convening behind the house.