"I kid you not," JD said as he attempted to hold back laughter as he regaled Casey with his story, "That's exactly how Ezra ended up with a sprained ankle and dislocated his shoulder again…and broke his ass." This time he couldn't contain his laughter when he looked at where Ezra sat with his ankle propped up, arm in a sling, and pillow under the ass in question to cushion it.
The members of Team Seven were at Chris' ranch celebrating another bust successfully completed. As the men were finishing their dinner, Casey had come by to check on her horse that she boarded at the ranch. JD couldn't help but to tell her the story.
"JD," Ezra drawled sounding as calm and collected as possible. "If you use that line one more time, you may find yourself talking out of a different orifice."
"Aw, c'mon, Ezra. It's funny." JD protested.
"Do you see me laughing, son," Ezra responded with just the slightest touch of menace in his voice even if it was next too impossible for him to focus his vision after taking painkillers. He gestured to the sling that supported his arm and then to his elevated ankle. "I'd think you'd know it's in bad taste to find amusement in another's pain."
"He's goat you there," Buck pointed out as he tried to keep a straight face.
"Et tu, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra fired back.
"C'mon, Ez," Vin said he walked by and handed Ezra a can of ginger ale. Since he was taking painkillers, he was prohibited from anything stronger. "You've got to admit, no one saw this one coming. You certainly didn't," he snickered.
"Ha ha." Ezra accepted the can of ginger ale wishing for something stronger if only so he could find the humor in his predicament the others did.
It was supposed to be a simple operation, a cake walk Chris had even gone so far to say. They'd gone in to break up an operation selling illegal cigarettes. What they hadn't known was that the suspect was running his business out of a goat farm.
Things had been going well until one of the billy goats had taken exception to the ruckus going on. He'd charged at an unsuspecting Ezra; butting him in the rear hard enough to send him sprawling in the mud. When he'd tried to get up, he's slipped in the mud, turning his ankle and sending him crashing back down to the ground. He landed with his full weight on his tricky left shoulder dislocating it again. The blinding pain from the both the dislocation and his sprained ankle had kept him on the ground while the others had run off the attacking goat.
As soon as Nathan had established the fact that Ezra hadn't been seriously hurt, it had been one joke after another about the source of his injuries. The only one who hadn't made a joke of it was Chris. Instead, he'd complained about the paperwork he'd have to fill out to explain one of his agents being injured by a charging goat.
"Did you know," Josiah began with the tone of voice that told the others that he was going to either launch into some philosophical discussion or impart some wisdom about some esoteric thing the others probably wouldn't understand. "about 6,000 people are attacked by goats in a year but only about 16 are attacked by sharks." He paused for dramatic effect. "And yet they still have shark week and not goat week."