This story is so good, it belongs in the politics chan. I expect several clans, guilds and kingdoms to be created due to this story. So this will be the bible of the kingdoms. They shall be created due to the message they get out of it.
My name is Hungry Horse. I am named so because of my huge and seemingly
endless appetite for grass. I am a stallion, 15.2 hands in height and of
chestnut in colour. I am an intelligent, working horse, and among other
things, enjoy brooding around the perimeters of my enclosure, an ever
watchful eye open to gaze upon an unsuspecting mare or gazing into a
trough of water to try see the reflection of my splendour. I am
handsome (if I may say so myself!), with a long graceful neck, short
back, well-built hindquarters, sloping shoulders, slender but strong
legs, sound feet and I am well-hung.
My owner is one Mr Roger
Bannister. He is a stern, menacing man. Quick to temper, you would be
foolish to test him. I bare many a scare as a result of his murderous
rage. My work entails pulling large objects (usually timber or brick) by
cart, while he lumbers around at the farm, stupendously drunk. Indeed,
so drunk he is, that he often soils himself! Hark at that!
the reason I write this down (or rather, my friend, the dearest
woodpecker) is not to tell my life of hardship and receive pity. It is
to tell a story of justice! A tale of a horse, who stood up to mankind.
That horse is Hungry Horse. Hear me!
So, one day, my master,
Roger Bannister, required me to transport him to an obscure town. I
wearily obliged (it is not as if I had much choice) and proceeded to
take him there in good character, despite being tired after a hard days
work. He was restless, I could sense it, so I did my best to not
displease him and transport him in good speed.. As time progressed, it
became apparent he was becoming more and more frustrated, frequently
checking his watch, shouting obscenities aloud and kicking into my sides
to hurry me up (it wasn’t my fault, the great big oaf weighed a tonne
and I was in need of rest!). My bottom was becoming raw from all the
hard spanking he gave me. Usually I wasn’t sure whether or not this was a
way of him getting some sort of sexual gratification or merely
attempting to spur me on, but this time I knew it was the latter, and I
wasn’t going to have any of it. I became increasingly fatigued and rigid
as he punished my poor body. Inside my head my conscience battled
against itself..do I stop and risk severe punishment, do I defy him? Or
do I continue, and risk collapsing, exhausted? As he brought his
red-raw hand to bear down on my bottom the final time, I decided there
and then: away with him.
I pulled back on myself, my hoofs
crackled along the top of a mixture of pebbles and mud. Roger, hands
off the reigns, flew 5 feet into the air before falling flat onto his
bulging rear, protruding from his bursting trousers. “What in heavens
name are you doing?!” he bellowed to me. I rose up on my hind legs,
waving my hooves in his direction aggressively, then defiantly
ejaculated all over his face and rode off.
I galloped off into the sunset. I had never felt so liberated in my
life. I felt, I felt as if I was on-top of the world (and in many
respects, I was. At least, the world of horses!). I never did meet that
disgraceful man again, but I’m quite sure he learnt his lesson. A
spoonful of medicine, one might say. Or perhaps a bucket load of horse
sperm is more apt? Oh, I kid!
So yes, I galloped off into the
sunset. The crisp breeze flowed through and over my mane, the sun begun
to drop and in its place rose an elegant, spectral sphere. Clickity
clop, clickity clop went my hooves as they traversed over the
makeshift-road. Soon I would need to rest, I assumed it would be safe to
do so. I hopped into a bush (not the first time I’ve been in one
either!) and quickly fell into a deep slumber.
The next morning
came about. I yawned, stretched out my legs and looked around for some
suitable grass to graze upon when my eyes befell a mysterious sight! A
mare! (Okay, maybe it wasn’t a mysterious sight after all, but I needed
to try build up some drama here. Give me a break) I donned some shades
(which were actually two leaves fastened together by short twigs which
had holes punched through them) and propped my leg up against a tree.
“Hello thar”, I said in my best (resembling a farmer) accent. She spun
around. “What’s a fine women like you doing around here?”. I didn’t
bother waiting for a response. “Let’s hump!!!” I said eagerly. She
looked at me disparagingly and snorted. “I am a lesbian horse”
felt dejected. I felt miserable. I am Hungry Horse. How dare she turn
her nose up at me? I rose up on my hind legs, waving my hooves in her
direction aggressively, then defiantly ejaculated all over her face and
I carried on
my merry way for another dozen or so furlongs, humming along repeatedly
to the tune of “macho man” in my head (yes, horses can hum and yes,
horses especially like the village people) before the muddy track came
to an end at the edge of a cliff. I carefully made my way to the edge
and peered over. Below lay a gigantic waterfall with thrashing waters.
Just as I made an effort to turn back onto the path, the sheer size and
weight of my penor, with the full force of the wind behind it and
gravity below, thrust my torso off the edge of the cliff and I plunged
into the cold depths of the water. I was a wet, Hungry Horse.
horsey-paddled (a slight variation of the doggy paddle, the slight
variation being that I’m actually a full grown horse and do not resemble
a dog in any way, shape nor form) my way to the shore. The shore
comprised of golden sand with little scattered seashells and pebbles
and planted in the sand nearby was a sign: “nudist beach”. I had to
restrain myself from doing several backflips, tumble rolls and
polevaults of happiness. I made my way up the beach to where I could see
several horses converged.
“Hello thar”, I introduced myself in
the customary, gruff and manly manner. “Hello thar”, they repeated. I
was taken back, my eyeballs rolled, my mind flashed back to the sign.
“But this is a nudist beach, no?” I said. “Yes, it is” they returned in
unison. “A *beep* horse nudist beach”. I felt sick, I was close to
vomiting. I rose up on my hind legs, waving my hooves in their direction
aggressively, then defiantly ejaculated all over their faces and rode
So. I was
contently trotting away from the beach when it struck me. No, not a
thought (although that did follow later), but rather a rubber dildo. The
angry mob of sexually frustrated, homosexual horses were stampeding in
my direction, bombarding me with sexual instruments! So, I whistled for a
cab and when it came near the licensplate said fresh and had a dice in
the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare. But I
thought now forget it, yo home to bel-air.
The cab driver looked
at me strangely. I don't know why I had the sudden urge to mimic Will
Smith (mind you, I'm quite fond of his Big Willie Style album), but by
the look on his face I seemed to guess he'd had received this kind of
reception all to many a time before.
Anyhow, when it became
apparant I couldn't afford the ride, I ejaculated on his face, got out
of the cab and strolled up the street, high and headstrong. It's on this
walk it came to me. I had a message to spread, I am the greatest. I am
the messiah. (or maybe I'm god?) I hadn't quite thought it through yet,
in any case, I was to assume some great position of authority. Now, come
to think of it, I'll be god. Messiah is too lowly, unless I could be a
mixture of the two? Messi-god. No, that's a sucky name. In any case, I'm
on earth to spread the message. The message is me, Hungry Horse, the
god of all. Accept my highness or be ejaculated on. (Now I have to think
of something to round this chapter off)
So..so yeah. There were
like..err..some tourists. Foreign tourists, yeah! And I was like making a
trumpet sound..out of the corner of my mouth, y'know,
inconspiqulously..like James Bond would if he were playing in some
classical band. And I said "yo, bow *beep*es. I'm Hungry Horse (of
Mighty), and they were all like.."Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto". I didn't
know what what the *beep* they said, so I rose up on my hind legs,
waving my hooves in their direction aggressively, then defiantly
ejaculated all over their faces and rode off.
I trotted happily, when I decided I wanted to go see my lovable
grandmother, Grandmother Nearly-but-not-quite-as-hungry-as-Hungry-Horse,
Horse. I came to her barn, and knocked my knobbly knees against the
"Who's there?", she asked, in a co*beep*, unfamiliar manner.
Had I been any other creature, I would of been afraid! I answered "It is
your grandchild, Big Chestnut Hungry Horse, who has brought you a..". I
looked around, truth be told, I hadn't brought the daft old hag
anything. "..I brought you your..your garden gnome..from outside!"
(Imaginative huh? Who cares, I couldn't think of anything else,
Nearly-but-not-quite-as-hungry-as-Hungry-Horse, Horse softened her voice
a little and told me to open the door. So, I opened the door and walked
in. Grandmother Nearly-but-not-quite-as-hungry-as-Hungry-Horse, Horse
pulled the bed sheet up and over her face to cover herself. Why, I
thought? I knew how monstrously ugly she was -- it was obvious I hadn't
inherited her genes, but still, what was she up to? "Put the garden
gnome upon the stool and get into bed with me", she said.
looked at the protruding mound that was hiding under the sheets,
perplexed. Still, I did as was told. I got into bed, and looked her up
and down, clicking my tongue suggestively. "Grandmother, what big arms
you have" I said. "All the better to hug you with, my dear" she replied.
"Grandmother, what big legs you have!" "All the better to wrap around
you, my child." " Big Bad Hungry Wolf, you stupid *beep*. Drop the
guise!”. He mewed from under the covers.
"Look, let's cut to the
chase. I'm going to defiantly ejaculate all over your face and ride off,
whether you like it or not. Now do you want it the easy or hard way?"
Big Bad Wolf rose a paw in objection and went to speak, but I wouldn't
have any of it. I rose up on my hind legs, waving my hooves in his
direction aggressively, then defiantly ejaculated all over his face and
So. I was
outwardly enraged. My poor old saggy, whiny, nearly three-and-a-half
century year old hag of a grandmother, had been eaten by a wolf. I can't
quite figure why she had been eaten, she was all skin and bones, but
truth be told, I was rather joyous that the old miser was out of my
life. And just to rub salt in the wound a little further, I still had
her gnome too, the daft cow!
Still, I was an angry stallion. And
what do angry stallions do best, you might ask (besides ejaculating all
over faces, that is)? Well, I’m not quite sure. So, as all horses do
when pondering, I hopped from tree to tree, pretending I was James Bond.
“Peown, motherfcuker!” I would shout (I hadn’t quite perfected my
imaginary gun-shots. Mind you, it was a damn sight better than my old
friend Engelbert’s. His would amount to nothing more than a slow, sloppy
and unimaginative “bang..bang”. I don’t know about dying to imaginary
bullets, but I sure as hell died laughing back then). So. Yeah, then it
struck me. Well actually, it didn’t strike me there and then. I managed
to gallop head on into a few trees before I started toying with the idea
of becoming a secret “motherfcucking” (okay, by now for some strange,
obscure reason, Samuel L Jackson had reared his ugly head in my
My mission: to find and eliminate my
grandmothers murderer. But in order to do so, I would need to go
undercover, if I were to charge in gun-ho, I would surely die. So I came
up with a cunning plan. I donned a subtle guise. Then, I looked up “big
bad wolf” in the phone book. His location, the big bad wolf lair. So. I
inconspicuously made my way to the big bad wolf lair, darting from tree
to tree, prancing from bush to bush, hopping through the shadows. I
carried through this charade for roughly 10 or so minutes before I got
bored, walked up to the front porch and pressed my hoo*beep*ainst the
doorbell. It opened.
“Allo, whu iz eet?”, he said in a dirty,
slimy French accent -- I could see through it immediately. But he to I?
No, no. He was oblivious, my guise had worked! I responded, talking
through my nose as if I had a cold “I am a man with a very large
nose..”. He looked at me strangely.
Crap, surely I had blown it?
He must of discovered my ruse, I needed more practice! “Okeey, okeey,
coom een sir, coom een”. Phew, I was safe. “Thanks, motherfcuker”, I
replied. Damn it, damn you Samuel L Jackson alter-ego. I’m definitely
done for now. Had I not wanted to preserve my image (not that he didn’t
already think I was a nutter), I would of begun smacking myself about
“Vhet deed yuoo sey?” he asked. I was panicking, the
blood was running to my head. But not only that -- my penor too. I was
in trouble..I had to abort the mission. Unless, unless I could finish
him off now? Yes! Yes! I cried aloud jubilantly. I groaned, I rose up
on my hind legs, waving my hooves in his direction aggressively, then
defiantly ejaculated all over his face and rode off.