Scapegoat
Course we don’t make the sacrifice in October no more, sir. It’s enough that someone steps up to the flayin’ table. Now it’s still few that can take on all this… worldly care, mind, but no point to bloodshed.
Over there? Jim, from back in ‘54. Probably live longer than any of us. Course we only had the helmet back then, no fiber, no worms.
Last year any of us was really scared, y’know. Now there’s them who don’t remember what it’s like. Except the goat, I reckon.
