Well, so I ain’t exactly cleared this with the bucket gal yet, nor with anyone but myself, to tell the truth, so this is likely gonna be more of a “virtual” kinda clinic, or maybe just somethin’ we can all do for fun together. But still. A horse has got to do somethin around here to get fed some more alfalfa!
I wrote about this at my Facebook Ranch, and I figured I ought to share it with y’all here, too. So here goes:
Event: Whiskey’s Bonafide and Maybe Only Virtual County Island Horse Bomb-Proofin’ Clinic
Where: The County Island
When: From now til whenever they stop tearin up the roads
Since I know from personal experience – back when I got to go to school with the horse police, which you can read about at my blog under the blog of that same name – how much you human-folk like to make us horses “broke” (like we need fixin’!) to all manner of rumbly contraptions and machines and other human foolishness, I figured I would extend this opportunity to y’all to participate in my very own Horse Bomb-Proofin’ Clinic. I hope to all that a horse hopes to it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, ‘cause I don’t think I want another opportunity like this.Now until at least the end of what’s called December, I’m offerin’ y’all a chance to ride and work yer horses over and around such intrepid obstacles as:
• The Black Bottomless Moat of Doom and the Hollow Horse-Eatin’ Draw Bridge Across It
• The Foul and Odiferous Giant Diggin’ Dragon That Eats Asphalt for Breakfast, and Likely Horses for Lunch and Dinner
• The Endessly Beepin’ Backwards-Rollin’ Dump Trucks of Death
• The Yellow Caution Tape of Trepidation
• The Stench From the New Sewer Pipes of Perdition
• The Not-to-Be-Trusted 24/7 Deputy Traffic Cop/Security Guard of Gloom
• Tractors, Front-Loaders and Other Giant Rumbly Creatures of Calamity
• Signs That Read “Road Closed,” “Pavement Ends,” “Open Trench,” and That Might as Well Say “Horses: All Hope Ends Here”
• and Many Rattly Chain-Link Fence Panels of Peril.
Clinic Participatin’ Fee: 6 bales of alfalfa
Clinic Audtitin’ Fee: 1 sack of sweet feed
Bring yer own beverages and lawn chairs, and I’d be obliged if you’d bring me a beer, too. Good beer, that is. I’ll supply the aforementioned obstacles, and likely some others, which’ll likely be worse. Heh.
Oh, and also — Don’t tell the bucket gal. She don’t know about any of this. Especially not the alfalfa part. It’s just between us, ya got that?
And don’t worry. Even if nobody shows up for real, I got to make up some good words about all this commotion to tell y’all about what’s goin’ on. It’s a doozy, I tell you what.