It is evening, and I am to be found perched on a lounge that adorns my veranda, busy inhaling one of Fidel’s finest and watching the smoke twist and turn on the summer breeze that occasionally decides to delight me with refreshing torrents of respite. In the countryside that surrounds my dwelling it is perfectly calm and overwhelmingly still. I have not heard a noise nor seen any movement all day, possibly longer. I sit and I drown in the boredom of reality while inwardly yearning for excitement and aching for adventure, even if it would mean jousting windmills. After what seems like an eternity, faintly, a noise reaches my ear. It is hoofs, of this I am sure, but who rides horses in 2010? Realistically speaking, nostalgic rednecks and Poland’s military, but I just can’t stand the thought of this rare disturbance merely being as simple as that, in fact, I would rather assume a much more kick ass scenario. Straining my ears with every fiber of my curiosity I listen as my presumed antagonist approaches from afar. Sitting back and inhaling once more I bide my time, and in the growing darkness I eagerly anticipate the approach of this assumedly mysterious caller.
My mind reels as I contemplate whom this visitor could be and my commendable imagination quickly kicks any notion of a normal encounter far from my rationale’s reach. Of course it could be JUST a horse, but I’d rather it be something more fantastical, like a unicorn. Now, admittedly, unicorns don’t exist, and neither does a Pegasus, but there is an equal probability of either being the culprit impedingly sauntering closer. I suppose its even possible that a unicorn and Pegasus met a few years back at a mixer for work and had a baby that was both winged AND horny, and so it may be probable that this proposed bastard is what’s looming somewhere in the distance, who am I to say?
I suppose it might be stretching things to infer that it could be a centaur, but on the other hand, it totally could be a centaur. Why shouldn’t I expect a visit from a half man, half horse who obviously has some information pertaining to my Destiny and how the time has come for me to save the world? Just saying it out loud makes it more of a viable possibility, kind of like peter pan and shit.
Slowing down to summarize my thoughts, I’ve thus far deduced that the sounds I am hearing are emanating from some type of hybrid species with the ability of flight and/or a defensive outcropping of keratin, fingers crossed it speaks English. I’m sure you’re asking yourself what you would do if a creature of this sort were to clip-clop into your yard, but I’m afraid that you just can’t possibly imagine how it really feels, but I’ll do my best to summarize the terrorizing events that follow.
The moment for action is nigh. The seven times I watched MacGyver flash before my eyes, and my subconscious mind checks the box marked “fight”. First order of business: don’t wait around for the opponent to find you vulnerable and defenseless. Thinking quickly, I spring from my seat and hit the dirt on all fours, crawling into position for a flanking attack. Second order of business would have been to construct a pipe bomb out of stuff I had in my pocket, which consisted of string, fish bones, and the One Ring of power*, but I lacked the ever essential paperclip and chewed wad of gum so I abandon my Dean Anderson antics and get back to business. Like a freaky crazy bat I triangulate the exact position of my adversary with my heightened sense of hearing, then I lie in wait behind some foliage as the bushes directly in front of me rustle and shake. The tall reeds part like an up-side-down curtain presenting the crescendo of my fantasy, and in the next few seconds I realize that my suspicions and concerns are about to be either confirmed or shattered, and as my cryptid stepped out, appearing before me for the first time in all of its glory…it turned out to just be a goat. Go figure.
*Hobbit Reference, duh.
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