Ridden Hard, (I Neigh For Thee):
Record Scratch …Howdy, Cow Pokes! You might be wonderin how I got here! Well the true story is boring and overcomplicated, so I won’t try yer patience with all that bull-pucky! All that matters now is here we are, on the border of what was once Texas (or Bolivia?), and everybody else is dead from the virtual suicides and high-noon shootouts (moment of contemplative silence RIP in pieces…). Yep! Just me and my trusty white cowboy…. Oh… oh, you thought it was him that were talkin’ this whole time!? Sheeeeeeeewt, naw, he’s just my property and means of transportation. Plus he acts as a medium that communicates my horsey-thoughts to the external world (us horses ain’t got the best vocal cords for speakin’ english, or ess-pag-nole, for that matter!). He does have it rough, but I think he takes pride in his job; he seems grateful and sure is a hard worker (a true Saltine of the Earth!). Anyway, we got to be off to the next frontier (there’s infinite ones of ‘em, you know), ‘fore it gets dark. So we’ll be seeing ya’ll on the flip side (if’n you don’t die by virtual suicide or OK Corrale). Git along doge-gies, Yeehaw!