His name is Bond, Bollocks Bond

I spend a lot of time on the internet.

I know you can’t tell that based upon the infrequence of my posting lately, but it’s the truth. 

Right now, in fact, I feel like I’m living on the internet – I’m deep in the research of the book I’m starting for NaNoWriMo (yeaaaah, baby – who is doing it with me?)  I’m trying to make the scientific portion of it sound like I gave it at least a little bit of thought, so that entails me browsing here and there, looking up various items and cherry-picking scientific sounding facts to make shapeshifters sound scientific.

Anyways, all this to say, I stumbled upon this:

Look, if you’re offended by bad language, PLEASE do not go there.  It’s exactly what it says it is: a Periodic Table of Swearing. I don’t know what I was expecting, clicking on it.  It was exactly what it advertised.

I admit that glancing through everything made me feel like a naughty child – I tittered like an ill-behaved junior higher..  It’s British cussing, and half the words on there just don’t sound bad to me at all.

Is it just me, or is British cussing just cooler and less gross sounding?

“Bollock!”

“Sod this.”

See?  Technically I know I’m cussing, but it just doesn’t feel like cussing.

Anyways, the website has some really dignified classical music playing as background sound, which just made the whole thing inherently funnier. 

I took a moment  to scowl at the dirty words before returning to my knitting (everyone who isn’t my mom: I  totally read all the dirty words.)

As I read through it scowled, The DragonMonkey played quietly at my feet – slowly assembling a tractor from spare lego parts.  Lately he’s just been impressing the heck out of me – I didn’t even realize he was old enough to play with legos, much less make actual vehicles.  Time flies, you know?

Anyways, I digress.  Right before I clicked off to go back to my research, I randomly clicked on the page, just because. 

And you know what?  My click was rewarded – it turns out the page is interactive.  In retrospect, I realize it says it right on the entry page… but I’ve never been one to notice details like that, at least not consciously.

As I clicked, over the strains of violins and cellos rose the electronic sound of man’s voice: 

“CUNT,” the man said, in a smooth British accent.

At the sound of his voice the DragonMonkey stopped his play, and looked up at me with an angelic smile. 

“CUNT,” the DragonMonkey repeated, in a perfectly serviceable British accent.  He nodded, smiled wider, and repeated it again proudly.  “CUNT.” 

And then he went back to his legos.

I’m sure this isn’t going to bite me in the arse later… right? 

Conversations with Caspian

“Hey, handsome.  How are you, you sexy beast, you?”

I’m hungry.  Do you have food?

“Dude.  You’re not hungry.  You eat around seven flakes of hay a day.”

I am.  I’m starving to death.  Do you have food?

“No.  I don’t have any food.  I missed you.”

No food?  You’re boring.  

“Well, that’s not very nice.  Can I give you a hug?”

I have zero interest in boring people.  I’d much rather stare alertly into the distance and pretend you don’t exist.

“Hey, wanna go for a ride?”

Food?  Can I eat on this ride?

“No.  No food.  Just a ride.”

….. fine.  It sounds somewhat interesting.  I’ll give it a try.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.  Hey, you’re all dirty.  Let me brush you.  Does that feel good?”

Silence.

“How about over here.  Does this feel good?”

Silence.

“I can see your lip trying to twitch – it’s okay.  You can tell me if it feels good.”

Okay.  It feels a little good.

“How about this? Do you like it when I scratch right here?

Really?  Do you really want feedback?  I think I should just stand here, and not move.  The First Person who trained me said to never move.

“You know darn well I’m serious. We’ve been through this a million times.  Please let me know if you like this.”

IN THAT CASE, YES.  YES. SCRATCH RIGHT THERE.  KEEP SCRATCHING…. you stopped?  Why?

“Because it’s time to tack up.”

Oh, is it that time?  Here.  Let me suck in more air than any horse you’ve ever known in the past. First Person always cinched too hard…. let’s see you try cinching that up, lady.

“Dude, really Caspian?  I need to get this past the fifth hole – it won’t even reach the first.  How is that even possible?”

That’s as tight as it goes.  Any tighter and I’ll die.  Do you have food?

“It’s not time to eat right now.  Let out your air – I promise I won’t overtighten it.”

Who is that?  That horse has food.  Maybe he’ll share.

“What that horse is doing is none of your business.  Stay where you are.” 

Can I say hi?

“No.  Focus.”

I think I’ll go say hi.

“NO.  GET BEHIND ME. NO SAYING ‘HI’.”

I’M GONNA DIE!  I’M GONNA DIE!  I’M GONNA… Wow.  You just shouted at me with your body.  I think I love you.  You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.  Hold me.  Shout at me some more.  Can you do that for me?  You’re so incredibly interesting, did you know that? 

“Well, I’m sorry I had to yell.  I’d rather not have to do that again.  Here, let me scratch you for a bit while I wait for you to get distracted so I can cinch you up.”

Nope.  Not interested in being scratched.  Shout at me again.

“I’m not shouting at you, Caspian.  You can focus your attention on me when we’re just hanging out – you know that, right?  We don’t have to go through this whole “let me work you hard and remind you I’m in charge before you love me” EVERY time, do we?

Hit me.  Just a little bit.  Please?

“I’m not hitting you.”

You’re boring.

“Quit being rude, and just relax and have a good time.  Can you do that?”  

I’m not particularly interested in you if you’re not going to use me.

“FINE.  I’ll ride you.  Are you happy now?”

Yes.

“You’re weird, but I love you anyways. Hang on, I’m getting up…. HA!  Fooled you. At least the girth’s on the third hole now.”

Can you yell at me again?  It makes me feel safe.  You’re amazing.

“Caspian, can’t you like me when I’m being sweet to you? Also, I don’t want to have to yell at you – let’s work on listening to me when I ask quietly.  Sound like a plan, Stan?”

My name’s not Stan.

I’m just teasing you, handsome.  Where’s your smile?

You’re not funny.

Lighten up, Caspian.  You’re so serious all the time.  It’s okay to relax and have a little fun, you know.

I’m saddled.  Are you going to make crappy jokes all evening, or are you actually planning on getting some work done?

“Dude, you have issues.  Alright, I’m up.  Walk forward.”

To the left, is that correct?

“No.  Straight forward, please.”

Ahh, to the left.  I’ll walk to the left.

“NO.  WALK STRAIGHT.”

Mmm, yeah.  I like it when you yell at me.  Alright.  Straight it is.  Wait… who is that?

“None of your business.”

This arena is fascinating.  Mind if I check everything out?

“Caspian- you’ve been in it a million times.  Pay attention to me.  I’ll let you know if there’s anything worth looking at.”

Who is that?

“FOCUS.”

Yeaaaah, yell it, baby.  Now you’ve got my attention.

“Let’s step it up – how about your fancy running walk gait thing?” 

I don’t know how.

“Yes, you do.  See?  Go faster… yes, perfect.”

Oh.  Like that?

“Yup.”

Okay.  I’ll trot then.

“What?  No, do your gait thing.”

Huh?  I can’t hear you.
 

“Fine.  Trot.  We can work on that if you want to.  Please work a little harder – step out a bit more and collect your body a little bit.  If you want to trot, let’s do it right.”

Huh?  What’s that?  What is this ‘trot’ you speak of?  I’m a gaited horse.  I only gait.

“Caspian, I swear…..  Fine.  Gait.  I like it better anyways, you big dork.”

Who is that horse over there?  They seem nice.  Can I go say hi?

“NO.  PAY ATTENTION TO ME.”

You’re so pretty when you yell at me. I think I love you.  Ask whatever you want – I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.

*******

Getting to know a horse who spent 7 out of his 8 years of life as a stallion is really interesting – I’ve never dealt with a personality like his before. 

Also, someone needs to teach this horse that it’s okay to have a sense of humor.  I don’t think he appreciates me laughing at him as much as I do.

Person, why are you just standing there, pointing your phone at me?  I’m starving.  Literally.  Quit messing around and get me food— and none of that grass hay crap, either.  I want REAL food – alfalfa, or maybe beet pulp, before I die of starvation….  Are you laughing at me?  IT’S NOT FUNNY.