Hollow Point

Smiley Bob wrote:

Oh, good. You chose the best option! gives you a plate of s'mores cookies

Usually the corn just listens. I'm guessing it heard some good gossip.

Really now? I wonder what it is...oh and thank you for the cookies.

Horses

Horses are nature's sad first-draft attempt at the automobile. Yes, horses are not as stylish as today's cars, and they are hesitant to let you use their glove compartment, but even today horses are not entirely useless. Here on the ranch, horses are often used to help the ranch hands with their daily chores, like tilling the fields or raiding the nearby mausoleums for jewelry or other burial goods.

Some horses have been bred for specific jobs, and some just for fun. This horse has been bred for racing; and this one for optometry, though his heart isn't in it--he seems dead-set on becoming a hard-boiled detective. And Prancy here seems to have no discernible skills, not even in light woodworking. But have no fear: Prancy will soon be sent off to a very special farm, owned by a friendly man named Elmer. Yes, Elmer will make sure Prancy is put to a very good use.

On a horse ranch, food is vital. That's why plenty of hay is always on hand. And I suppose the horses will have to eat something too.

Today, horses are more commonplace than ever. In fact, the average American home contains no fewer than four horses, whether they know it or not. It's not uncommon to be awoken by the sounds of muffled neighs emanating from the floorboards. Here we see Floyd spraying horse repellent generously to keep horses out of places they shouldn't be. There are at least six currently under the floorboards, and two in the guest bathroom walls.

There's always a lot to do on the horse ranch. Here, farmhand Gummy is reshoeing a horse. Loafers may have been appropriate for this morning's bat mitzvah, but now that they're back on the farm, something a bit sturdier is required. As you can see, horseshoes are shaped quite differently than human shoes, but they are still nailed into the feet. Gummy is careful not to hit the horse's thumbs.

Now it's feeding time. The worker must ensure he is not accidentally bitten, because the hay moon is nearly upon us. The hay moon occurs approximately once every four weeks, when the moon is low in the sky and the horses become aware that hay is, in fact, everywhere. During this period, ranch hands are advised to remain indoors and avoid making eye contact with any horses. Fortunately, the barn has been specially reinforced for just such occasions.

Once the horses have finished eating, they are free to pursue their various recreational activities. Some enjoy running. Others enjoy scuba-diving or standing very still in a field while looking at a distant point that no human can see. This is known as "watching horse television."

A few of the more ambitious horses have taken up hobbies. Clarence collects spoons. Wilbur has been learning French. And Silver has recently become convinced that he is the mayor of the next county over. No one has had the heart to tell him otherwise; he has already approved several zoning changes and ordered the construction of a fountain in the shape of himself.

As evening approaches, the horses are brought back into the barn. This is usually a simple procedure, although occasionally a horse will refuse to come inside because he has remembered something important. Nobody knows what this might be. We simply give him time--and hope the coyotes don't find him first.

At last, the ranch settles down for the night. The fields are empty. The barn is quiet. Even the horses in the guest bathroom walls have stopped their muffled neighing. There is only the soft creaking of the floorboards. And somewhere in the darkness, Prancy is frantically trying to learn light woodworking, having somehow heard about the plans to send her off to Elmer's. As it turns out, Prancy is quite good at it. She has already built several shelves, a small armoire, and, most recently, a wooden staircase leading to the attic. This was unexpected--we had always assumed that horses did not have opposable thumbs and that the attic was inaccessible.

So ends another peaceful day on the horse ranch. Tomorrow, the horses will be examined by a licensed detective to determine why there are now seven of them in the attic. Prancy will be questioned. Until then, good night.

And remember: if you hear sawing in your attic, don't investigate. It's probably just Prancy. Probably.

Lemmingiaistanlandia wrote:

Tabodi

Gesundheit! Do you need a tissue?

Smiley Bob wrote:

Welcome Willandia III

Don't forget to offer Willandia III a selection of "welcome" cookies.

The Zeon Republic wrote:

I have brought them cake! Totally normal, non arsenic laced cake!

Well, ain't you generous and totally not taking this opportunity to dump your rather excessive arsenic supplies off on other nations in the form of baked confectioneries! Truly a magnanimous gesture!