Art © quillchild

Name: Randall Kempt
Nicknames: Grumpy Goat, Grump Pants, GG, Pinky (Lilac) and more
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Sexuality: Homoromantic, Asexual
Breed: Spanish fainting goat
Feral Height: 67 cm
Anthro Height: 5'5 (Shortyy)
Feral weight: 55lbs
Anthro Weight: 110 (Skinny lil booty)
Penis size: Twice as big as yours
Nationality: American
Fluent Languages: English and Sarcasm
Accent: Typical Sassy American
Position: Fursuit Character
Username: G3TWR3CK3DK1D (GetWreckedKid)

Close friends: Nobody YOLO

Theme songs:
TBA

Fursuit Fur Colours;
Mendel's Punky Muppet Lavender
Mendel's Punky Muppet Plum
Mendel's Punky Muppet Cobalt
Mendel's Punk Muppet Neon Yellow
Mendel's Punky Muppet Baby blue

Personality: [Challenging] [Dramatic] [Over Emotional] [Grumpy] [Destructive]
Description:

Noticeable/Important reference art;

Lil blurb; Written by quillchild

Randall
“Its not like I care about you or anything, idiot…” The words slurred off the tongue of the goat as if they tasted sour to him. He batted his bright and exaggerated eyes at the ram as if he was as unimportant as a passing conversation. Randall nearly spit.

The ram smiled at him and took his large cloven hoof and patted the littler goat’s head. “Yea sure pinkie, whatever.” He planted a quick, embarrassing kiss on Randall’s black horn. Randall nearly toppled over in faked disgust.

“It’s lilac, doofus…” The goat trailed off, smiling mostly to himself. No matter how much he denied it to everyone, Randall had a very soft spot for the burly ram that liked to tease him about his unnatural shades of fur. “Its not like it matters to you anyway, you’re practically colorblind. You couldn’t tell a golden retriever from a black lab.”

“Even so, you’re my favorite” the larger ram bleated and then pranced off, leaving Randall to wallow in the adorable stupidity of it all. “Wha-whatever…” And smiled, mostly to himself, once again.

Randall wandered over to a patch of grass and grazed for a moment, as most animals would, but easily lost interest in the tasteless ground. He instead marched himself to the open windowsill to the farmhouse and chewed on the curtains instead. “Idiots… these are the floral print curtains! God they’re fucking disgusting. He mumbled to himself in displeasure, but continued to eat. “Whatever…” (Which seems to be his catchphrase) he said, and his ears flopped lazily in his face. With a bleat, he complained about this and that and everything under the sun.