My name is Ken White, and my story starts in a small basement with a group of punk teenagers in band shirts and ripped up jeans. We had just started a rock band, and we just experienced my voice; it was beautiful. Soon the years went by, and I found an excellent voice tutor who was gray and was at a lost with faces. One day I’d be Nick, Kelly, or Bobby to him, and I would nod my head as he continued to blurt out whatever nonsense that came from his goat stomach, which we humans call a brain. “Alright Kelly,” He’d say, “Time for another song. Would you please give me an ‘F’?” I would nod and press the key for him. The piano was standing before him. When the time came the old man became rather sick, and he acknowledged this for a fact before his death. The day he died was the day he gave me a picture of his granddaughter; she was beautiful, and I fell in love with her. As it turned out, his granddaughter was a talented musician, and she was in love with my voice as much as I was in love with her. We got along fine and we were married in two years time; we remained virgins until our first night as newly weds. The next morning after the wedding we planned our tour across the world. She wanted to bring peace to the world, and I wanted to lay with her. One day before a concert we took a walk into a wooded land in Canada. It was a foreign land to me, but I was not confused by its complexity; I was led by my wife’s soft hand. She was escorting me to a “secret spot”. Once we made it to the spot she was so interested in, I lost my zeal for her tender hand, and I was now enveloped by natural beauty. There before me was a waterfall with clear water with trees surrounding us. I smiled to her and told her I loved the waterfall, the trees, and the river. She smiled and told me that they were to be destroyed. There was a rich oil mine by the waterfall, and in the process the miners will destroy the river’s richness. “Why did you take me here?” I asked with a slight taste of perplexity. “Because I wanted you to love our world like I do,” She said, and I loved her for doing so; she was beautiful. Soon the waterfall, the forest, and the river were destroyed and my wife continued to take me into the many forests of the world. She told me everything about the world and its wonders. I found its wonders amazing, and I asked her if humans were one of these wonders. “No, humans are not.” She said with a cocked head. My exploration into the wonders of the earth had been halted. “Then what are humans?” I asked slightly concerned by her answer. “Evil goats that will soon devour our earth,” She replied with the effort to keep tranquility in her voice. I made a half-hearted grin because I loved humans, but I would soon learn that my wife did not. As our exploration continued I saw that my wife’s eyes didn’t hold the passion of life as they did once before. She became unresponsive and told me only rounded riddles instead of pointed facts. I eventually became frustrated with her and we fought for the first time. After our fight, we left the forests for society once again. She lost the appeal for peace, and now was focused on the earth’s future. During that time we met many famous environmentalists only because of our popular songs, which I sang but did not write. I was soon dubbed the “Green King”, which was a popular song at the time. The words went like this: I once met a man who told me that goats can be lambs, and I said to that man that evolution was a fad. He took out ol’ Dewy and gave me the proof, which I shot down in a puff. He whined and mourned telling me truths, but all I did was puff. The puffing she mentioned was about the drugs she took, but no one seemed to care until she died five years later. The media tore our popularity apart after then. Before her death, she told me she was a sick girl and that she was thinking about suicide. I told her that only lambs were sacrificed. She kept these words in mind until she died from an over-dose. She became a lamb. A month after her death, I went back to her grandfather’s grave. A man was there; he was a writer, and he was looking into my personal life. He asked me several questions, and I answered them vaguely. He wanted to know almost everything about my life. I didn’t have much to say, but in the end I won the friendship of the writer. One day we were talking about a news article he so happened to read in the paper. It was about Christianity, and the subject insulted him. After his temper died down I told him what my wife had told me, and that we were all goats and that whatever he did in this life didn’t matter to the earth because the earth hated us. He surprised me with a chuckle and asked me if I really believed what I preached; I told him I did not. The man smiled once again and asked me how it was to marry a woman like mine. I told him that it was like marrying earth - a person who hated me. The writer became upset with this answer and left me. We never spoke again, and the result of our conversation turned into a book about a cult of sex, drugs, and murder. He told lies about my wife in that book, but they did not upset me; my wife would have enjoyed them. After several months had passed, I began to think of suicide and ways of doing it. It took me a good year after the publishing of the book “Cindy White Creations” to realize that some of the fan mail that I received was from a newly formed church called Cindy White Creations. They wanted me to write a bible, and so I did. The project didn’t take long for the words of Cindy White weren’t many. She spoke through action more than words, but I tired my best to write a collection of proverbs told by my wife’s human wisdom, or which I call goat shit in my bible. My favorite proverb went like this: All men are only goats. They graze upon life as if they can understand it. With doing so they come up with their own philosophy, which is processed within the stomach of their goat bodies. Once they speak their philosophy, the philosophy turns to dug as it touches the earth and eats away at the earth’s vegetation and life. A goat’s shit is poisonous. – 1:1 Goat Shit