Member-only story
An Asshole’s Horse
Now and before
An asshole’s horse often looks better than the ass
almost riding it both now and before; I know.
Thus starts the tale of the asshole who rode a horse.
The story about the horse that rode an asshole
would be more interesting; I think that I know.
Thus starts the tale of the horse that rode an asshole.
(The air was filled with particles of life and death as well as laughter.)
Horse: Those were the days.
Asshole: And nights.
Horse: What an asshole!
Asshole: What a horse!
Horse: Can I call you, Ass, for short?
Asshole: A is more than enough.
Horse: Not in your short life! A stands for Athena, my Greek goddess, and other worthy words. Ass will more than suffice for someone like you.
Asshole: What an arse; I mean horse!
Of course, the horse was small; a Falabella (maybe a dog’s muse). After a while, no one noticed the horse or the asshole below it. Trees nearby were laughing each time that they passed by them, every leaf almost falling to the ground and it was not autumn. I would have laughed too, but I was Asshole; Ass.
We dance a great tango together, but that is another tale.
