Monday, 28 February 2011

I've found Max

1850s Romanian text (Lord's Prayer), written w...This used to be my calendar. Image via WikipediaAfter my recent period of coma-based vacation, I returned home to a particularly notable lack of Max. My cattle were unspooked, my vegetable patch free of maps of the Holy land, and all the writing in my house hadn't been translated into Cyrillic. It was most disconcerting, I can assure you.

 Anyhow, I did the logical thing and set about tracking him down. I don't really want him back, but I've grown accustom to his ways. Besides, it doesn't seem fair to inflict him on other people, and I think I have legal responsibilities as his owner.

 So, hiring a Native American tracker so stereotypical as to cause offence, I set off on my epic search. It was long, arduous and exciting, but I shan't bore you with the details. Anyway, regardless of the trials of my journey - filled as it was with magic, unicorns and sexy green beasts (Sorry, I know you're not interested in this) - I succeeded and found our wayward friend at last.

 Of course, there was a complication.
 He was in space.
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Wednesday, 23 February 2011

I escape the gang of horse-burglars! Using all my cunning, tact and dexterity, I ran away from them. Well, ok, that was a terrible plan - they just chased me, clearing obstacles with ease. So I hid in a phonebox, and held the door shut. Not having hands, the horses simply bashed at the sides for a while, until they got bored and went away.

 Another brave victory over the forces of darkness, methinks!

 Anyway, since I was in a phonebox anyway, I decided to make a call. If there was one person who would survive a horsepocalypse, it was Max. Carrying on with life out a sheer willpower. Or annoyance.

 After a few rings, he answered the phone. My phone, it should be noted. I knew he was after my house - a belief further enforced when he answered with my name. He's stolen my identity! That little bastard, I'll have to get it back now. Or, at least, an identity of equal worth. Or a better identity. That's really what I want.

 Oh, and he told me the horse-thing was just localised, they'd taken over a small area of the city. So there'll be no more talk of horses, ok?

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Day of the... Horses? Terrible, terrible title. Does a good job of not raising your hopes.

The streets are deserted. I'm not surprised, it was inevitable that one day, I would wake up in a post-apocalyptical city. That horses would seize power was an unusual twist, of course, but I wasn't worried.

 Well, that's not entirely true. I was pretty worried. For one thing, I don't have any apples, and a group of horses were eyeing my up from a nearby alleyway. Black stallions. They just happened to be that colour, this isn't a racist thing. In fact, they weren't even black, just hidden in the dark of the alley maw.

 Searching my person, I looked for anything that could help me - a saddle, the ability to whisper, anything. But to no avail, and the horses drew closer, brandishing horse-shoes threateningly.

 Things do not look good.

Monday, 21 February 2011

I've been in a coma

Yes, that's why I haven't posted for a while. Well, not really. But you already live in my insane fantasy world, we might as well continue that way.

Anyway, the coma was very relaxing and all, but I can't help but feel I've been missing out. For one thing, all the medical staff in my hospital appear to be horses. I imagine that the last month has been quite exciting for you all, as our horse overlords seized control of the planet and so on. But me, I prefer a nice steak. What's that got to do with anything? Who knows, I'm just out of a coma. The fact that I'm writing this at all seems miraculous to me.

Anyway, tally ho! I'm off to get more horse tranquillisers. The horses like to keep me sedated. Can't think why.
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