"I'm sorry," he said, "But frank's not for sale."
"Oh," said Aberforth, visibly disappointed. "May I just give him a treat, then?"
Frank bleated and moved closer to Aberforth in encouragement.
From his pockets, Aberforth produced no less than five farthings, several pieces of lint, a chewing gum wrapper, a yo-yo, and a sugarcube.
Frank's eyes lit up, and he eagerly went for the five farthings. Aberforth beamed. "Such a smart lad!" he said.
Brad quirked an eyebrow, warming up to the guy who clearly had money to burn. "So, hypothetically speaking," he said. "How much would you be willing to offer for him?"
The twinkle in Aberforth's eyes vanished to reveal the shrewd glance of an experienced businessman. "This is no ordinary goat," he said. "Something so special demands a special price."
"I'm listening," Brad said, thinking about the mileage he could get out of this story at his next Big Name Blogger convention. He was already envisioning his Livejournal post. He would perhaps put his mood as "quixotic". The music, possibly something Swedish and poppy.
Frank stuck his nose in Aberforth's pocket looking for the rest of the sugar. Aberforth ran a friendly, possessive hand over his back.
"My dear fellow," he said. "I can make the days of only three icons a thing of the past."
(product of the collective insanity of bookshop, loftily, and michichu at way too early in the morning.)