Backyard breeders beware! (also: Sworse)
Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a poor, but very well muscled (I’m not kidding, we’re talking six pack abs, rock solid pecs and hello! welcome to the gun show!) stable lad. The poor but well muscled stable lad was a good, hard worker. He picked up extra shifts whenever he could, handled all the most dangerous horses that no one else would touch and even took the occasional job squiring the homely daughters of barons around for a night of high society.
The poor but well muscled stable lad worked and worked, and saved and saved, all with the hopes of one day starting his own stud farm (horse studs, not some sort of male escort service. Although…). Eventually it came to pass that he saved enough money and was able to buy a colt. Many people had already bypassed this colt as he was on the small side and lacked presence. But the stable lad saw beyond the colt’s exterior and recognized the potential underneath. He paid cash that day and he and the colt walked out of the seller’s barn and on to their new life together.
Years passed, and the poor, but still well muscled stable lad and the colt grew and prospered together. The colt showed well and people started asking about breedings to their mares. The stable lad was very choosey about which mares he would allow his colt to breed with and pretty soon everyone in the land wanted to breed to the colt. People came from far and wide just for the chance to get a foal by the now full grown stallion.
One day a wealthy business man showed up with 10 mares he wanted to breed to the stallion. They met in the now fairly prosperous and still well muscled stable lad’s home and after much bartering and inspection of the mares pedigrees and show histories, the stable lad informed the business man that the mares were not suitable to be bred to the colt.
The wealthy businessman flew into a rage! He ranted and raved and flung his hands about in a fast-forward version of some speed-laced hokey-pokey. How dare he treat him like this and didn’t the stable lad know who he was! It was then that he grabbed his musket and a deafening boom reverberated throughout the tiny living quarters. The stable lad sunk to the floor, clutching his abdomen.
As the very well muscled stable lad lay on the floor of his humble dwelling, dying, the stallion came in and lay beside him. No one is certain what happened next, but some swear that as the stable lad died, the light left his eyes and a new, bright fire burned in the eyes of the stallion. After that night, the stallion was never seen again, but many say (in hushed, reverent tones) that he comes in the dead of the night and steals the souls of men and women who try to breed inferior quality “backyard” horses.
Backyard breeders, he’s coming for you…
Don’t look directly at his eye, he’ll steal your soul!
On another note, we’re not sure we can be afraid of anything that looks like a swan…
Wait a minute…
YES WE CAN!!