“I can always tell which is the front end of a horse, but beyond that, my art is not above ordinary.”
A new horror! I go to the gym everyday and there’s a girl who works the front counter there. Since we see a lot of each other we’ve struck up a sort of friendship: I tell her the dramatic goings on of a police department, she tells me the ridiculous tales of a gym. The other day she asked me how far off the wedding was and when I told her, “Next week,” she got a dark look on her face and said, “Stay away from horses.”
“Why?” I asked intrigued.
“My family keeps horses and I’ve ridden all my life. So I was out riding a couple of weeks before my wedding and when I was taking off its tack when I was done it kicked me in the head.”
My jaw dropped.
“I was in a coma for three months,” she continued, “and had to do months of physical therapy when I woke up. We got married after all that, though.”
Completely at a loss for what to say to that (“Crikey?” “Good on ‘ya?” “Congratulations on being currently upright?”) I just mumbled, “Wow…” She waved me off to the weight room cheerfully, “I’m sure that won’t happen to you! See you tomorrow!”