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MANDATORY: The Mishap

The filly had stopped compulsively trying to paw with the leg that had been trussed up and had instead settled on watching him fretfully. You would think he had beat the feather brain the way she pussy footed around him. Would think it by the reactions of some of the hippie minded trainers that hung about like a bad smell muttering over how he wasn't being 'one' with this sack of glue and meditating over the meaning of anything that bent her nose out of shape; which was everything.

He had no designs on being her friend. The thing needed a parent not a half baked enabler and Joe didn't really want to be that to her either. Already had himself enough children at the grand total of one. When he had decided yesterday that it was time to knuckle down and get his hands on her he had unhappily settled on being her temporary boss. And the boss's first order of business had been 'off with her hair'. A day out from the mandatory buzz cut and she was looking almost decent in his eyes. Today it was time to lay her and the real ground work down.

Easing his hand down from her shoulder he hitched the strap about her fetlock a notch tighter now that she was still enough to do so. The filly managed to tip herself too far trying to lean away from him and stumbled just as he had pulled.

"God Dammit Peckerwood."

Joe backed up from the filly to observe the webbing between his thumb and index finger. It had been torn pretty good from catching it on the buckle of the leg strap, but nothing worth stitching. He pulled a cloth he had been using to wipe sweat and pressed it over the bleeding to keep it from getting anywhere it hadn't already.

Careful not to pull at the clotting he moved the cloth away to have another look. Some days it felt like he was more paper than skin. "Getting old again." He groused.

Description

MANDATORY: The Mishap

The filly had stopped compulsively trying to paw with the leg that had been trussed up and had instead settled on watching him fretfully. You would think he had beat the feather brain the way she pussy footed around him. Would think it by the reactions of some of the hippie minded trainers that hung about like a bad smell muttering over how he wasn't being 'one' with this sack of glue and meditating over the meaning of anything that bent her nose out of shape; which was everything.

He had no designs on being her friend. The thing needed a parent not a half baked enabler and Joe didn't really want to be that to her either. Already had himself enough children at the grand total of one. When he had decided yesterday that it was time to knuckle down and get his hands on her he had unhappily settled on being her temporary boss. And the boss's first order of business had been 'off with her hair'. A day out from the mandatory buzz cut and she was looking almost decent in his eyes. Today it was time to lay her and the real ground work down.

Easing his hand down from her shoulder he hitched the strap about her fetlock a notch tighter now that she was still enough to do so. The filly managed to tip herself too far trying to lean away from him and stumbled just as he had pulled.

"God Dammit Peckerwood."

Joe backed up from the filly to observe the webbing between his thumb and index finger. It had been torn pretty good from catching it on the buckle of the leg strap, but nothing worth stitching. He pulled a cloth he had been using to wipe sweat and pressed it over the bleeding to keep it from getting anywhere it hadn't already.

Careful not to pull at the clotting he moved the cloth away to have another look. Some days it felt like he was more paper than skin. "Getting old again." He groused.