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The horse stared me in my remaining good eye. His huge, golf ball sized optical lenses glistening in the night like a pimento olive on a linoleum floor. I froze, not daring to move a muscle, as I heard the muted pat pat pat of my blood hitting the dirty cement floor of the stable.

And yet only minutes before this horse and I had been partners, maybe even, dare I say it? Friends? We laughed, we joked, we shared history together. Not in real terms, but in horse-terms, that is to say he snorted and whinnied and chewed hay, or whatever it was they ate and slept in, and I looked at him and approved, and patted his reasonably furry neck. That was our way of being friends. Little did I know, our mutual respect, let alone our friendship, was not to last.

It began with a joke from my friend, the horse's owner, Chassy. She suggested that I "help her brush the horse". Those were her exact words. I thought she said those exactly words, and with sincerity at that, but upon later reflection, she may have actually said "get into a more vulnerable position". Because to a non-horse owner, any position except on or in front of a stationary horse is a dangerous one. It's well known that horses are doe-eyed the cats of the grazing, herd animal world: calm and soothing and pretty one second, terrifying and violent and blood-letting the next.

As I snuck beside, and then moved behind the horse, I remembered that old trick: Keep your hand on the horse, so it knows where you are at all times! "Yes, that's good advice," I thought to myself, "this way there are no surprises." I kept moving, thinking that I'd also heard that like dogs, horses could smell fear. But then, horses were much tougher than dogs. Horses I don't even think like dogs. What if this horse, smelling my fear, was reminded that it was dogs who owned the saying "smell fear", and got angry at only owning the saying "never look a gift horse in the mouth." Then I would have two things to worry about: the horse's anger, and his natural dislike at the nauseating smell of my cold, sweaty fear.

Despite this, I kept moving. Like a miner without a lantern, I rubbed that horses ass like the walls of a darkened mineshaft. "I mustn't become separated from the horses ass!" I thought, as I hurried past. Unfortunately, keeping a steady eye on the horse's ears, all the while pointing directly towards me and following me like two furry radar dishes, I banged into a pail on the floor at the back of the horse's little stall. I jumped like an electroshocked rat and simultaneously yelped like an electroshocked teenage girl. The horse, who up until now had likely never been exposed to the effects of shock therapy, took a very athletic leap to the side, away from me. Of course he could only move a foot or two before banging sideways into the wall of the stall, but he did it quickly, suddenly, through the air, like some sort of ninja cat.

I, having landed again from my initial jolt, felt the wall of the cave, my guiding light, my guardian angel, that horse's ass, suddenly fly away. Since I had been pushing so hard against that beast that was suddenly no longer there, I fell forward, arms reaching like a model in a too-tight mini skirt eating it on the runway.

As I fell, arms outstretched, the horse turned his head, and looked me in the eye. As if in slow motion, I saw his left leg - his strong leg, I'm sure - coil ever so slightly forward, then like a rattlesnake attacking a beanie baby, he struck.

I felt the impact on the side of my face, as I continued to fall towards the ground. The world flashed black, and then I saw a dirty horseshoe pull away and settle into the hay, barely two feet from where my skull also came to rest. I laid there for a moment, blinking as blood pooled in my eye, thinking "I will never brush another horse in my life." Slowly, I crawled to my feet, and started backing away, when I saw the horse turn his head, slowly, ominously, until he fixed me in my remaining good eye. "Stay gold, Pony Boy," he whinnied, as my blood pat pat patted a little background drum beat.

Revelation 6:7 - 6:8 - "And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a pale horse; and he that sat on him was called Death, and Hades followed with him. And power was given to them over a fourth of the earth, and that they (the four horsemen) should kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth."

Brilliant - Jardine, 2009-07-08, 09:41:39 That shit is gold. Glad you didn't have an aneurysm, lol. Great!

enjoy - Beeb, 2009-07-15, 09:49:38 click on this when you get bored. http://beebali.mybrute.com *horseshoe to the face...cripes!!

Ian, 2009-07-23, 12:29:42 Ninja cat rules.

I knew it - Ken, 2009-07-31, 07:17:22 Bestiality is bad mkay?

michael Sheridan, 2009-08-07, 07:44:33 hey Mitch it's mick from Australia ;)

that\'s gotta hurt - michael Sheridan, 2009-08-07, 07:46:20 hope you are well :)