Horses...

I'm still elderly. Well, not really. I'm afraid much of this blog is a work of fiction. Sorry if you feel misled. Anyway, I'm old. Max has taken to spending his money on horse racing. Well, on gambling on horse racing. He hasn't bought a racetrack or anything - again, sorry if you feel mislead. It is a maybe-commonly-known-fact that in horse racing parlance, a maiden is a horse that has yet to run a race; it’s not an animal that is still a virgin. I didn't know that, it came up on my screen.
 I don't have anywhere to go with this. Max didn't have sex with a horse or anything. An elderly idiot engaging in sexual acts with animals is not a taboo I'm willing to break just yet.
 I wrote an article about horses in Red Dead Redemption on Bukisa one day. Don't care for video games? Then don't feel pressured to click the link to the site. Incidentally, Bukisa pays me $10 for every thousand visitors I get. Or something like that. Just saying. There's a link to sign up in the top left of this page. Go on, do it, let me syphon your profits so I can buy a yogurt-filled swimming pool.
 Yea, as I was saying... I don't mind horses, so with interest I spotted an advert on the scourge of youth, Facebook, earlier: design your own horse. Unfortunately, it was for a game. I had hoped for genetic engineering.

We ran, and he gave chase.

The tramp gave chase. Frankly, he was in good shape for a presumably malnourished man. Legs and arms pumping back and forth, pistons pistoning or whatever they do, he was rapidly covering the ground between us. Like the terminator, if Arnie was wearing ripped blue jeans, a checked lumberjack shirt and a dirty bowler hat.
 "Just give him back the money!" I yelled to Max. Of course, I didn't yell it so coherently. There were pauses for me to draw ragged breaths, and such, but I was to lazy to write them in.
 "No!" Yelled Max, "I earned that 14p!"
Behind us, the tramp was still gaining on us. I could see the red in his eyes, the flickering of froth around his mouth. I wondered if he had rabies. Probably, but I didn't want to make assumptions just because he'd fallen on hard times.
 Catching a second wind, Max and I sprinted onto a busy highstreet. Weaving through crowds, who quickly gave our pursuer a wide birth, we headed past a street-sculpture and a herd of passing Nuns. Behind us, the tramp, now only 10 feet away, pulled his hat from his head and send it flying. Spinning fast, it shot past Max's head, edges sharpened like Oddjob's, the hat took Max's ear.
 Nearing me now, the tramp stretched out his arms. I'd had enough, and we only had 3 ears between us now, so my planning probably wasn't sound. Stopping, I dived sideways, tackling Max. The tramp, having built up momentum during the chase, raced past us, unstoppable, hitting a waist-high bin. Colliding, flying, somersaulting, he flew up and away from us, high into the sky, silhouetted on the sun, before coming back down, onto the road, into the side of a double-decker bus. Grabbing both Max and his severed ear, I made good our escape before the tramp could recover.

Clown River

Good news, gentle yet impoverished reader - I have a money-making opportunity for all of you! And this time, you don't even need a saddle. You see, I've set my heart on a river, full of clowns. Like usual, there's no reason for my crazy idea - I just want to sing Clown River, to the tune of... Moon River, unsurprisingly. Anyway, I can promise that you will be well rewarded. The first person to construct me a Clown River shall be paid far more than anyone has ever been paid before for building a Clown River.

I may need serious help...

"Yes, but Wilde said that 'Charity creates a multitude of sins', did he not?"
I looked sadly at Max, pondering my reply.
"Well, yes." I started - best to start simple, I find - "But he didn't mean to encourage this"
"Ow" The tramp replied sadly.
Max pondered this briefly - it's a pondering kinda day - before swiftly kicking the hobo in the gut again.
"Ow," He continued. Then, looking up hopefully and bloodily in equal measures, "You know, tourists usually pay for this."
He raised his eyebrows hopefully several times. With a sigh, I dragged Max away. I'm not going back to jail - not again.