Sunday, June 24, 2012

Bear Jokes

A horse limped into a bar.  He was a big black horse, breathing heavily and looking distressed.
Right away,The bartender asked him  “You alright, stud?”
The horse, still trying to catch his breath, snapped back at him “I’m a horse who is limping like I’m injured and breathing heavy as if I were being chased by people who want to “do what is best for me” putting me out of my misery.  Hey, I may never race again, I get that, but I’m still prime breeding stock. It’s mostly just a scratch and some bruising on that leg. I don’t want to die.  Please help me.  Don’t let them find me and take me.  You gotta help me.  I don’t want to die.”   The horse broke into sobs as he finished.
The bartender put a hand on his neck and stroked his well groomed mane as he spoke to him softly and soothingly, almost whispering, “There, there, Stud.  I won’t let anyone put you out of your misery...shhhh ….shhhh.... it’s going be ok .I’ve got something for you, stud.  Just calm down.  You like sugar cubes, don’t you? Of course you do.” The bartender reached into his pocket and produced three sugar cubes.
The horse had calmed himself somewhat and upon seeing the sugar cubes, even seemed to cheer up slightly.  He ate all three sugar cubes at once, right out of the bartender’s hand.  He savored their sweetness briefly on his tongue before swallowing them.
He turned to the bartender and thanked him.
The bartender said nothing, but continued to look at the horse with an expression of compassion that seemed to convey a sincere desire to help this horse.  The horse was deeply moved by this and began to speak to the bartender again.
“I really want to thank you for...” he paused as he began to choke up, which startled him slightly.  That  never happened.  At least, not time it didn’t.  It was then his world suddenly started spinning and going black. He could feel a darkness settling down upon him like a heavy blanket.  His legs buckled, and he felt a sharp pain in his hurt leg as it bumped against the floor as his other three legs buckled.  He looked up toward the bartender, confused at what was happening, and that was when he saw the bartender’s face, now transformed to a cold unfeeling stare.
As the blackness settled around him he fell to his side, no longer able to hold his head up...he watched as the bartenders feet moved towards him. He could no longer keep his eyes open, but he could still hear the bartender as he crouched down beside him and then whispering soothingly into his ear “’re gonna be ok.  I won’t let anyone put you out of your misery...because I’m going to do it myself.”
Before the horse had a chance to respond or even process what had just been said to him.  The horse felt the contrast of cold steel against hot flesh on his neck, then pressure, followed by the flowing warmth of blood wear the cold blade had just been.
“That’s a suprisingly pleasant contrast,” the horse thought to himself.  He felt that heavy darkness settle over thoughts, his conciousness,...and then, nothing.
The bartender whistled nonchalantly, cheerfully even as we walked away from the dead horse on his bar floor.  His leg was pretty bad.  There really wasn’t much they could have done for it and the bartender felt good about his decision.
“it was the right thing to do for that poor horse.” he thought to himself as he grabbed his mop and bucket.  He whistled a familiar tune as he mopped up the pools of the once majestic and powerful animal’s thick red life force from up off the floor.
The Campptown ladies sing this song,
Doo-da, Doo-da
The Camptown racetrack's five miles long
Oh, de doo-da day

Goin' to run all night
Goin' to run all day
I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag
Somebody bet on the gray

Oh, the long tailed filly and the big black horse,
Doo-da, doo-da
Come to a mud hole and they all cut across,
Oh, de doo-da day

Goin' to run all night
Goin' to run all day
I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag
Somebody bet on the gray

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