I was thinking about Queenie today as I was in a foul mood looking at land which I could not afford, and Queenie was the mare of Chico, a little Shetland pony I was once sat upon at age 4 to not know what it was all about in that little stud who bred one of our mares, to produce the horse I fell off of and learned to ride on really.
She was a good little shit. Never ran off and was more like a 12 hand high dog than a horse. She could run fast as the wind, and she was a chestnut dark brown sorrel thing with more colors in her main than a horse had any reason to.
I think I was around 17 when the old man decided to lend her out to some god damn cripple kid. I have no idea who the hell those people were, but the old man was always bitching about feeding horses while he had to just have them around to inflate his sand grain sized manhood, so off Queenie went as I was too busy to notice what the fuck he was up to as usual.
One night we got a call from the asshole. Think his name was Trapp or something like those fucking Sound of Music people, and it being 10:30 I was in bed from busting my ass all day, and the call was about Queenie had been hit by car and killed.
I knew the fucking kid from school. Older than me and should have been drowned at birth like all the people in that part of the country. If you inbred apes, cut off half their brain, fried their brains on dope......yeah that is about the intelligence of that lot..and that stupid son of a bitch could not see a horse in the road.
Queenie never got out in her entire life. The old man used the excuse of that cripple kid doing something to make her life more enjoyable to get off in not feeding that horse. So I was thinking about things, and I figure that Queenie was being starved to death and that was quite a feat as that little mare was fat all the time on what the old man starved her as.
So that poor little horse, stuck with that god damned cripple kid, no fencing obviously as the horse never got out ever, and Queenie was on the road probably eating ditch hay and those assholes never even checked on her.
So she was dead. Still hurts.
I talked to a friend of mine who lived over in that brain dead asshole area, and he said he saw her, and mentioned as he loved horses, how he would never ever wanted to ever see one of his horses looked like Queenie as it busted her leg almost off and probably exploded her in being run over by a dumb fuck who should still be drown.
That horse deserved better, but then hell so do I. Thing is though I actually thought about praying the old man out of hell, but this pretty well cements it all that he belongs in hell for that horse incident like all the other fucking incidents that bastard pulled like leaving my brother and my horse up in fucking Indian country all summer where anyone could have run off with them as they stood by the gate non stop.
Yeah that was about grazing too.
Oh this is my old man in the trade too, in he got our mares bred, and then led my brother and I to believe the colts were "ours". Sure we trained them, and then we learned they were "his".
Fucker....that horse was mine and he never got away with getting away with him either.
My old man pulled a lot of shit. Is why I am glad he is dead, and if I have more to say about it, he is going to be in hell either forever burning as a spirit with satan or ashes under a horses feet in an incinerated soul.
That horse never did a thing wrong in her entire life. Should have been the old man run over by some primate behind a wheel. Would have saved me the consideration of shooting his ass that one spring when he got particularity abusive to me. No I did not shoot him, but the only reason I did not was I was not going to be in prison all my days over that prick.
I remember him drunk in stepping on one of kitties twice in squirting the shit out of her, so of course the cat died. I remember a great many things about that man and none of it was ever good.
I should have rode him on that horse he got killed, but being too Christian and feeling bad about it all to the point of being sick, I never spoke of it again at age 17. He always got away with shit because he was big and a bully who never much cared for me as my brain being bigger exposed his idiocy too often. Yeah I should have called him a horse killer and let him try and rub the same back onto me and just kept on with, "Yeah at least I never killed no horse and pretended it was a good deed for a god damned cripple girl when it was all about your ass being too cheap to feed an animal which was propping up your fucking pathetic lack of self esteem".
Probably that last part would have had to have been out of punching range as he tended to wind up quick, but I was always quicker in jumping back.
Yeah the horse killer. Burn in hell over all your sins old man. Burn in hell.
agtG
