I used to like animals.
I thought they were my friends.
Animals never forget that you exist, or laugh at you, or tell you that you would suit a goatee (said my bitch of a fringed cousin).
With this in mind, I decided to embark on a small horse ride.
I'm going to be honest; I'm not the best sportswoman out. In fact, my performances in the sporting arena are generally pretty dismal. Apart from my mad bike-riding skillz, I generally steer clear of things requiring rapid body movement and any sort of coordination.
But I figured that horse riding relies mainly on the horses skillz, and my ability to sit on the horse and just let it do its thang. I'm good at sitting. I've had quite a bit of practice.
But I had a bad feeling about the horse as soon as I met it. I'm pretty good at judging who hates me. Usually it's pretty much everyone. And I knew that this horse had it in for me from the start. But, despite my better judgement, I climbed onto its back and did what I do best (sat).
All was well for a while. I think I'm pretty good at horse riding, actually. 'Perhaps I can be a jockey', I was thinking to myself with a smile when all of a sudden the horse went mad, trotting straight towards a nearby tree. I screamed, flailed my arms, begged it to stop, and generally made a lot of noise. But that horse could not be deterred, and after a few minutes I was sent crashing into the tree.
I scrambled off the devil-horse as quickly as possible and escaped to my room to lick my wounds (a really sore scratch on my pinkie finger).
A word of warning: don't trust animals. They are all bitches.
