Fans, last night on my other blog I wrote again about the Smoking Horse. I was sitting in front of my computer, pounding out my latest hate post, when I felt his presence.
"Mr. Ed?" I asked. "Is that you?"
The room shook like a stampede. The Smoking Horse galloped toward me, a pack of Marlboros in his shoed hoof.
"You switched brands?" I asked. He used to smoke Salems.
A light flashed across his familiar, blonde-maned face. He was lighting the cigarette.
"Hello, asshole," the horse finally said.
He stood next to me, blowing smoke rings through huge black nostrils. I waited for him to say something more, but like always, he flew out the window, trailing ashes behind him.
"Mr. Ed?" I asked. "Is that you?"
The room shook like a stampede. The Smoking Horse galloped toward me, a pack of Marlboros in his shoed hoof.
"You switched brands?" I asked. He used to smoke Salems.
A light flashed across his familiar, blonde-maned face. He was lighting the cigarette.
"Hello, asshole," the horse finally said.
He stood next to me, blowing smoke rings through huge black nostrils. I waited for him to say something more, but like always, he flew out the window, trailing ashes behind him.
