Don’t you hate it when you’re having one of those special and wonderful moments and something gross and creepy abruptly interrupts? No, not talking about love making, pie eating contests, or bowel movements. I’m talking about loping. And on a horse . . . of course. My horse, Thunder, has a magnificent kind of slow motion lope. Yesterday he employed this gait to carry me across an open pasture toward a stand of trees. I tell you, Loved Ones, I was grinning like a monkey that discovers something edible between its toes. But then we went beneath the limbs of the trees. It seemed like one giant web that held a battalion of big and fat spiders. They looked like bloated and veined grapes with legs and ugly little prehistoric heads. And I got them all over me. I don’t fear a whole lot of things, except snakes, komodo dragons, angry women, tainted chicken, and SPIDERS. Anyone watching would have seen a confident and happy cowboy, one with his horse, enter a stand of trees without a care in the world . . . and come out screaming like a girly man with a broken heart and a hangnail, slapping at himself with both hands all about the face, head, and upper body. This story has a happy ending because it ended in prayer when I felt something viciously tugging at the left side of my moustache. “Oh Dear Jesus! Oh Lord Jesus! Oh Baby Jesus!” I only wish I’d prayed silently; keeping my mouth shut. That particular breed of spider tastes something like brussel sprouts, but a lot juicier.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Oct 2013 12:29:46 +0000
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