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If Things Get Worse, We’re Gunna Have to Eat the Horses.

Updated: Oct 25, 2020

Alright, I’ll be the first to admit it. 2020’s been a drag. It hasn’t exactly been the year that we were all counting down to nearly 12 months ago. I for one don’t want to dwell on the past—and I like to be optimistic for the future. But if things get worse, we’re gunna have to eat the horses.

Now personally, I think we should start with Butterscotch on account of his extra hoof. That thing is unsightly and there’s a lot of good ankle meat around there. Once he’s dead and gone I say we line up Moon Shadow and Apache and shoot them both with one silver bullet. It only makes sense that they go out together seeing as they’re lovers. We’ll have to act fast on them. I’ll be sure to put their meat in the stew I’ll be stewin’ with Butterscotch’s carcass. If I get started early enough then the whole county will enjoy some stew come Christmas.

Obviously the next horse we shoot should be Guthrie. That mean old mare never was much for riding on and I hate the look of his dumb face! We all know that Guthrie’s horse meat is no good so I’ll just toss it in the swamp or pass some of it over to the Hill Peoples. Maybe they’ll take it as a peace offering and finally stop stealing our newborns.

Now that doesn’t leave us nothing but two horses left and in my honest to God opinion I think the towns people should vote on which one we shoot and eat last.

We’ve got the fat orange one with the floppy hair who might not be able to read and is confused on how to flap its lips. And we’ve got the other old mare whose brain is slowly falling out of its teeth but continues to gabble into a microphone. Both of which will be easy to take care of. All I need is my Grandpappy’s rifle and at least one reporter from The Gazette to say that my aim was true and my bullet swift.

But as I’m talking myself through this I think it would’ve been wise to shoot these two old ponies first and make a stew out of them! I guess we still gotta vote though.

But what do I know? I’m just an old prospector with nothing but three teeth in my mouth, a few hundred pounds in a gold, and a lovely young daughter who will inherit my wealth when God let’s the final curtain fall on the fruits of my labor.

Until then, I hope for you to try my stew!

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