why i don’t like horses
when i was 10 or so i went to an overnight summer camp in michigan, and one activity was for each cabin to take turns going to the horse stables, letting every kid pick a horse, then riding the horses as a group to some other campground and spending the night there. i’ve always been a shorter guy, and the situation kinda startled me enough as it was for whatever reason, so i picked the safest horse - the shortest horse - a fat white one named flower.
we’re this big bunch of children on a bunch of fucking horses, in single file, waiting for the big camp gate to open so we can trot along on our horsie ride.
it opens up, and we take our first couple steps, but something is wrong. flower starts kinda making funny noises and is jiggly and in general is just very upset with me. this is because flower isn’t fat, she’s pregnant as fuck and is going into baby time while i’m on her. the horsemaster says GET OFF THE HORSE so i do, and he goes to take care of the bloody as hell ponybirth and i have to get a new horse. but all of the other horses have been taken - only horsemaster’s gigantic black stallion remains.
so i get on the horse, whose name is espresso, and it immediately starts bucking like a wild bull. i lose grab of the reigns and hold onto the saddle as best as i can, but it starts galloping in circles and eventually kicks me off. i landed in a rosebush and broke my middle finger, which to this date is the only fracture i’ve ever had.
