The Tale of Haggis the Goat pt 7 of 37.

     Everyone looked at Hippie Guitar Man. He had never spoken a sentence without his usual hippie drawl and prefacing it with "Hey man," yet just now, he had spoken a perfectly normal, almost sophisticated sentence. A perfectly normal, almost sophisticated sentence oozing with mystery, that is.
      "What... What do you mean, he's quite right?" Steve asked. "He can't be right, he's just a lowly paranoid assistant who believes in haggises and drop-bears."
     "Well you see," said Hippie Guitar Man, raising his eyebrow, "As a child, my parents took me with them on their travels. We went all over the world, from the epitomes of wealth and class, such as Paris; Tokyo; Walker County, Alabama; and London; but we also went to the depths of poverty in India and Africa. They were rich, too rich for my blood, so I left when I realized they were all part of the System. But before I realized that their conformity to the status quo was influencing me, they took me to a magical place called 'Scotland.'
     "There, I enjoyed myself. Ate many wonderful delicacies, including... haggis. At first I didn't believe when they told me about the haggis. They said it was made out of haggis. I assumed it was made out of sheep guts like all their food is. But eventually I agreed to go on a Haggis Hunt with them the next morning.
     "I lay down for the night, dreaming of capturing a wild haggis the next day, when I heard a scream. I ran outside looking for the source of the yell, and what I saw shocked me. The entire village was in flames; people were running, terrified, into the forest. 'IT'S THE GREAT HAGGIS!' a large man yelled at me as he ran past, the hair on his head singed.
      Suddenly, I saw the beast. Black as night, towering in the air, it turned its head to me, its eyes glowed red with malice as it glared at me."
     Hippie Guitar Man shuddered. "After that, I don't remember what happened. I- I just blacked out. The next morning I woke up in the hospital in the next town. As soon as I was released, me and my parents flew back to the U.S.
    "Soon after that, my eyes were opened to The System, and I began to fight it. But I couldn't fight it with my parents' money. It was a battle I had to fight alone. So I took to the streets, sleeping on park benches, anywhere I could. But whenever I went to sleep, I could never forget... the haggis. I would dream about it every night.
     "Eventually I picked up the guitar. From the first moment I saw it, I felt a special connection to it. Ever since I got it, the nightmares went away."
     They stared in awe at Hippie Guitar Man. "I had no idea." said The Ridiculously White Man with the Handlebar mustache.
      Staven patted Hippie Guitar Man on the back. "I know that feel, bro. I know that feel. We're going to find this haggis... and bring it down."
     Hippie Guitar Man put a carrot in his nose and smiled. "Let's riggidy roll."

The Tale of Haggis the Goat pt. 6 of 37

Staven and Steve looked at each other. Staven smirked and said "And who are these HOODELUMS? Hmm? And also, why is that guy stuffing whole-wheat all natural organic baby carrots in his nose? Seriously, what is the deal with him?"
      Hippie man pulled the carrot out of his nose. "Hey man- You're really messing up the vibe in here. You know what you're doing? Messing up the vibe in here, that's what."
    Staven looked at Hippie man in an awkward silence. The entire group stood and looked at the ground, awkwardly clearing their throats and shuffling their feet. Staven looked up. "So, you guys recording here today? That's cool, that's cool."
    "Yessir! We sure are," said The Extremely White Man with the Handlebar Mustache.
"Baaaaaaa," Haggis agreed.
     "Even though I work here at Addicted to Pants Recording Studio, music isn't really my interest. My main interest is, well... No, you wouldn't understand. No one does." Staven looked away, dejected.
      "Baaaaahh!" Haggis said, which means, essentially, "Please tell us! I am *quite* understanding, I'll have you know."
     Staven sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you... My lifelong goal is to find... A haggis."
     The rest of the group pointed at Haggis, including Hippie Guitar Man who was once again sticking carrots in his nose. "This is a Haggis," they said.
    "No, no, I knew you wouldn't understand! I mean a REAL haggis..."
    Extremely White Man with the Handlebar Mustache exclaimed "You'll be hard pressed to find a Haggis as real as this Haggis!" Hippie Guitar Man nodded. "Yeah man, totally all natural and organic."
    Staven backed up and shook his hands defensively. "No, you misunderstand me. This is what I mean by a REAL haggis... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_haggis."
    The others stared at him in awe. "What-- What's that?" someone said as they watched Staven procure the link to Wikipedia. "I... I don't know," said another.
      "Go ahead, click it." Staven encouraged.
Haggis clicked the link. The rest followed suit and read the short article on the Wild Haggis.
      "Ah," said Steve. "That makes this whole thing much clearer. However, they don't exist."
"Oh, but they DO!" Staven said energetically. "I've seen one, seen it with my own two eyes. Clear as day."
       Hippie Guitar Man pulled off his sunglasses, took the carrots out of his nose, and looked each one of them in the eye, all at the same time. "Gentlemen... I'm afraid you'll find Staven here... To be quite right. Quite right... indeed."