Shaun Drabble

The Epic Tale of How Shaun Switched Teams, a.k.a Everything is Because Someone Stole a Goat


There was something serene about that morning. Sun was gently streaming through cracks in the shutters, dappling the room like a forest floor. The usual cacophony of sound that defined mornings in RED was strangely absent, not that Shaun could pay any mind to it considering the fact that there was nothing to interrupt his sleep. It would have carried on that way for a good part of the day if a firm thud that shook the bed hadn't knocked him out of it.

The dazed and bemused sniper groaned as he fell flat on his face. When he looked up to see just who was accosting him so early in the morning, the most he could offer was a sleepy "Huh..?". The rest of the team had circled in around Shaun's bed; all wearing the same accusatory scowl. "What's going on guys? I thought I already went through that hazing stuff." In a vain attempt to wake himself up, Shaun rubbed his eye with the corner of his pinkie pie pajamas. His love for the pony was not well known, and had he had been lucid the Sniper would have been far more embarrassed.

"Get up, goat-napper." The Scout said, jabbing Shaun in the ribs with his foot.

Thankfully the Medic was feeling a bit more loquacious; "Our prized weapon producing goat has gone missing. None of us did it, so that only leaves you."

"Yeah, goat-napper. Give us our goat back or we'll beat him out of you." The scout added on, once again kicking Shaun in the ribs.

This time, he caught the foot and pushed it away from him as he stood up and picked his glasses off his nightstand. "But, I've been sleeping this whole time. How do you know it was me and that none of you are lying? And how would a goat make weapons?" he asked in a sleepy drawl. Frankly it was too damn early for this level of silliness.

Uncomfortable looks were exchanged  between the team before the demoman spoke up. "Well, the goat was fed Australium, and that coated its udders. The power of the metal turned all of its milk into weapons of all kinds. You just put down a bucket, squeeze the udders a few times, and poof, you've got a brand new, fully loaded shotgun that can turn a man into a shooting star." He said, punctuating with hand gestures. "Oh, and we have you on camera carrying the goat off base right before dinner."

"How do you know it was me and how do you know I was carrying a goat?" Shaun was pretty sure he had been locked in a bought of sniper wars with one of the BLUs at that time, but as far as alibi's go it wasn't worth mentioning. But it was either that or internally wonder just how you could get a shotgun out of a goat's udder, and then consequentially  wondering if he drank bleach would it erase his previous thoughts.

Once again the Scout felt obliged to answer, "There's no way anyone could miss your dumb glasses in that video! It was obvious you were carrying the goat too! You can make out its shape under that blanket you threw over it! I was supposed to get another batch of crit-a-cola today! Give us the goat back!"

At this, Shaun was understandably taken aback. "Excuse me good sir, but I assure you my glasses are not dumb!" and spontaneously a monocle appeared over his glasses accompanied by a perfectly steeped cup of tea. For a moment he stared at the tea, and to a lesser extent the monocle before taking a sip of the tea tentatively.

However, to the team, this was the equivalent of him weighing as much as a duck. The majority of the team made appalled gasps and pointed. "See!" said the Soldier, "He's stolen the goat and is using it for his own fiendish tea making schemes!"

"But- I don't even like tea that much…" Shaun tried to interject. It was futile. The team picked him up, pinky pie pajamas and all, and carried him to the Administrator's office; chanting 'Burn the goat napper!' all the while.

Shaun was unceremoniously dropped into an uncomfortable wooden chair in the Administrator's office. The room was bleak. There were only three items of furniture; the chair Shaun was sitting in, a large, intimidating oak desk, and a speaker box that sat on top of the desk. Behind him, the entire team stood at attention, awaiting judgment from the speaker box.

Eventually, a crackly, static obscured voice emanated from the box. "I would say this is an incredible disappointment but you've proven by now it's not a good idea to put any faith in you. I give you a simple weapon making goat; and you steal it. This is unforgivable."

Shaun groaned, "But I didn't steal it! Why won't anyone listen to me? I don't even have a reason to steal a goat! I didn't even know it made weapons!"

The box countered with a stale reply, "What makes you think I care? The fact of the matter is we need a new Australium Goat and we're using you to buy it."

"Wait- what?" Suddenly it seemed that Shaun was on the precipice of being whored out by his team for the sake of a goat. And to think, the morning had started out so promisingly.

"Figures you'd be too incompetent to read the memos. Someone slap him for me." The Heavy obliged. "BLU is known for their ample supply of Australium Goats. It's always been a particularly annoying thorn in our side. We are going to trade you for one of their goats. Now get out of my office before the chair starts to lose self-esteem just from being in your presence."

Without so much as a warning, Shaun was once again carried out of the room, out of the base, and more or less thrown like a log at the caber toss at the BLU base. Shaun didn't even have a moment to lament his now dirt-stained pinky pie pajamas before a duffle bag containing the majority of his belongings bitch slapped him across the face. With a sigh, he looked up at his new home, and walked in.

Little did the team know, Shaun was truly innocent of stealing their goat. In reality, it had been a simple mistake. The Pyro had been unaware of the Goat's Australium-granted ability to milk weapons and when the team had run out of meat for dinner, the arsonist made due the best he could. For the following week, the team experienced similar incidents to the tea-and-monocle-debacle, never knowing it was from their Australium laced mutton.