If you ask me, the priests in the village are the twisted ones. Those hairless bastards are always sending the girls with a goat. Like any self-respecting demon would seriously fuck a goat. I mean, it’s good eating, but, come on, not even Marvin Gaye himself could make a goat even the slightest bit erotic.
They’ve been getting a little lax when it comes to their definition of virginity, too. Not that the girls aren’t lovely, either way. It’s just that they all seem heavy on the makeup and light on the underwear these days. We’ve never seen that much jewelry on private parts, either—it’s like the local jeweler had a two-for-one special on labia and breasts.
This last one swore she’d never done anal.
Naturally, we pretended to correct what was clearly a nonexistent issue and thanked her for her (supposed) honesty. Personally, I’m not sure we should have counted her because we were all pretty confident that she was a repeat sacrificial offender, even before she gave us the cheerful wave and skipped off, saying, “thanks, guys, see you next time.”
Of course, we never fuck the goats.
I suppose they could be the virgin part of the sacrifice.