Page 12 of The Worst Possible Plan

A second alpaca followed close behind, smaller and the color of rich caramel. It hurried to catch up, letting out a soft humming sound before pressing against the larger alpaca’s shoulder as if borrowing a little courage.

Then a miniature donkey picked its way down the ramp, placing each tiny hoof with careful precision. Its shaggy gray coat was dusted with silver, a darker stripe running along its back and shoulders, while a tousled chocolate-brown forelock spilled over bright, watchful eyes. Its oversized ears swiveled in opposite directions, listening to everything at once. Reaching the pavement, it stopped in the middle of the street, lifted its nose, and released a soft, questioning bray.

For one brief moment, everything was still.

Then the goat took off toward a stack of colorful festival banners.

“Damnit.” I dropped the binder and rushed after it. “Get back here, you!”

The goat darted between two folding tables, dragging half a banner behind it while chewing enthusiastically.

“Should I… do something?” asked the volunteer from behind me.

“Yes!” I shouted.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” I yelled back. At least the goat had stopped moving. Progress.

I stood there breathing heavily while trying to come up with a plan on how to deal with this situation. I was supposed to be the event planner. This was an event. I needed to event-plan the hell out of it.

The sound of the scraping of asphalt pulled my attention behind me.

The largest of the alpacas started walking directly toward me. My first thought was, Will it spit in my face or headbutt me? I wasn’t particularly interested in either outcome.

I moved left.

The alpaca moved left.

I moved right.

The alpaca moved right.

“This is so weird,” I said out loud.

The donkey chose that exact moment to wander into the parking lot.

“You,” I called after it. “Donkey, I need you to stay near the trailer. Stay! Good donkey.”

Obviously, the donkey kept going. I wasn’t sure why I expected it to listen to me. My sister Margot was the one skilled with animals. She could teach an old dog to do tricks. Me? Animals mostly looked at me like I worked for them.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and spread out my hands. “Everybody stay calm. That’s it. No more funny business.” Just as the words escaped my lips, the goat climbed onto a picnic table and started to jump off and then back on again.

I was in hell. The furry, hooved kind.

The volunteer looked at me. “Now what?”

“New plan, Stan,” I said, knowing that wasn’t his name but absolutely not caring at the moment. “I’ll let you know when it comes to me.”

The driver checked his watch. “I gotta go.”

My head whipped around. “What?” Irritation flared. I was going to strangle him. You know it. I know it.

“Another delivery.” The driver shrugged like he hadn’t just unleashed my new furry-hooved hell.

I stared at him incredulously. “You can’t leave.” My body leaned forward, like it was prepared to go full-on quarterback and tackle the son of a bitch. Yes, he was bigger than me, but I was going for the knees.

“Sure, I can,” said Earl.