((This is the second part of the story, the sequel to "The Bathroom".  Still involves my little pygmy goat and my misunderstood Adolph (whom is a dragon type creature but that should be shown later on.)  This is just a chapter giving a brief history of Adolph's predicament and how he got such a name, and what happens after the bathroom scene.))

"Don't know what be wrong with Little Goat.  Wonder if wake up soon he will?  Stop worrying self, Adolph, he'll be fine."  Adolph.  How I hate that name, he thought to himself.  

~It's a ghastly name.  Why my mother allowed me to be called that, especially after that war, I'd never know.  Maybe it was because she feared my grandfather.  Not her father but my father's father.  Such a horrid man he was.  There were rumors among my family members and among our neighbors that I remember.  That he supported such groups as the Nazi's.  That he was a big supporter of Hitler in that time.  Rumors that he still believed in such cruelty.  But my mother always told me to hush when I asked.  She never wanted to anger grandfather.  I remember she'd start to cry when she called my name. "Adolph! Come here, my little son!"  I didn't understand why she cried till later.  
She hated that name.  Even though the spelling was different, she hated everything to do with what that name associated with.  So after my father died, and when grandfather wasn't around, she'd call me by my middle name.  Though I don't think she ever forgave my father for allowing grandfather to name me when I was born, she always loved him.  Even after his death.  She'd used to tell me, "Listen here, my son," she couldn't bring herself to say my name. "Always love.  Always love yourself and others.  Never judge.  Always love. Always care for other living things.  Never hate.  Never hate another because they may seem different.  Always, my son.  Always, always love."~

Adolph turned back to the lifeless form lying on his bed.  He leaned over to make sure he was still breathing.  Good, still alive, he thought.  He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on the side table.  It read 2:38 A.M.  Adolph yawned and walked over to the opposite side of the bed.

"I'll just...sit here. Next to Little Goat. Make sure he okay."  He said to
himself then kicked off his boots and sat on the bed.  He swung his legs up onto the comforter and rested his head against the backboard. He glanced over at the goat and smiled.  "Such a small creature.  Looking no older than twelve yet..." he reached over and gently stroked the goat's long face once. "You have very mature face."  He rested his hand back on his lap and tilted his head back.  Staring at the ceiling his mind began to wander.  "Always love," he said to himself.  And soon deep thoughts turned into light sleep.


"Oy...what time could it be?" Adolph opened his eyes wearily and sat up.  He rubbed a cramp in his neck that must have formed after sleeping sitting up for so long.  He yawned and suddenly remembered last night.

"It's 9:30...in the morning."  A small quiet voice chimed in that Adolph barely heard it.  He jerked his head over to the opposite side of the bed to see the little goat was out of the bed.  In fact, he was peering over the side, shaking slightly.

"Eh, Little Goat.  You awake." Adolph chuckled, smiling.  "You doing better I 
assuming?  Any pain?"  Adolph flopped heavily onto the squeaky bed, stretching out and coming face to face with the peaking goat.  

The little goat's eyes widen, almost in horror.  But he didn't move. Whether because he was too frightened to, or because he was standing his ground, Adolph didn't know.  But the goat spoke up.

"Th-the tattoo..."

"Oh...the tattoo.  I know what must be thinking.  You must be thinking I Nazi. I mean.  I cruel. I evil.  No, no, no, Little Goat.  Don't fear me.  Ignore tattoo.  I not put it there."  Adolph frowned.  He never liked explaining why it was there, or even talking about it in general.

The goat still stared at him in horror.  Adolph sighed.

He said softly, "Little Goat.  Listen close.  Long time ago, when I was born, my 
grandfather, he name me.  He took me one day away from my mother, when I was just a small thing; he took me and got me this tattoo.  He liked...you
know...Hitler.  I from Germany and so was grandfather.  He supported those people though he was young.  He give me tattoo on neck, he give me name to call me."  Adolph leaned closer to the little goat, "Please don't hate me.  I never hate anybody.  I help you, see?"  Adolph pointed to the bandages around the goat's small chest.  The goat's shirt he had put into the washer.

The goat still stared at Adolph but placed a hand on his chest.  

Adolph sighed and got off the bed, heading for the door, "You hungry Little Goat?  I get breakfast."  With that Adolph left and closed the door behind him.

Wow, he thought to himself.  That was the first time I ever explained myself so quickly.  He smiled to himself.  I like the little goat, he thought.  Maybe that's why I feel so open to explain.  Poor Little Goat...