This was written on Facebook in part in conversations with Lyra when she was concentrating on Scrabble and ignoring me 🙂
There is a sound of tumbleweeds, a howling wind, and a mucky tall guy wanders into town, dragging his dead horse behind him. As it’s a horse he doesn’t so much wander as grunt and groan
‘Howdy stranger,’ says a local, an old man.’See you have a horse.’
‘Yep,’ says the stranger.
‘Most ride into town’ says the local, leaning back against a tree.
‘Ž’I’m not most people,’ replies the stranger.
‘You don’t say,’ says the local, wondering if the stranger is, indeed, right in the head. ‘We shoot horses round here that are less lame than yours. A decent burial is what he needs.’
‘They make horse-shaped coffins now?’
The local takes a long hard look at the stranger and hazards an opinion…
”You’re a strange one,’ says the local to the stranger.
‘Yep, that’d be right, says the stranger. It’s in the job description.’ He flourishes a card at the old-timer
The card says:
Hard Work, Dust and Bristles
‘That’s some card,’ says the local, taking a well-aimed spit at a can nearby. The can tips over with a splat of phlegm. ‘150GSM paper?’
‘Pretty much,’ says the stranger. He pauses, wondering why his horse hasn’t yet woken.
‘There’s a saying about dead horses,’ says the local, handing the card back to the stranger. He notices a phone number on the back:
For a good time, call Bertha 0011 23 45 66 88.
‘He’ll be okay.’
‘Don’t look okay to me.’
‘How can you tell..?’
‘It’s the eyes.’
‘…past the bullet holes I mean,’ continued the old-timer.
‘Oh, they’re just transfers,’ said the stranger. ‘Took him to a detailing place a few towns back. Gave him new horseshoes and had a deal on bullet hole decals.’