Gorgias

The sun flickers in a pattern of three quarters of light, one quarter of shade, the shadow being cast by the trees I am speeding past on my race horse. My race horse is not an average race horse. It won the Ascot 3:10 this year and has been running all day now. In fact, after finishing the 3:10 today, I kicked off the jockey and took the horse. So it’s my race horse now, and it’s been running for at least two hours. I think I can still hear the sirens.

Some of the trees are younger than others. The area is flat, mostly agrarian fields, and the trees that abut the fields and line the bumpy roads are about as thick as my upper leg, my right upper leg because I am slightly malformed. Anyway, some of the trees are younger. They’re as thick as my left arm, which is rather thin compared to the other arm. They’re being held in place by poles, to which they’re tied to the poles with rubber bands, much like my arm is held in place, much unlike my arm is held in place with a belt. I am slightly malformed.

My race horse is panting heavily. I wonder where it will start bleeding first.

Never had I thought they would let me onto the Ascot tracks, like, on the tracks themselves. I was — and still am — wearing a jockey outfit, but clearly I do that for the heck of it, right, so why would they allow me onto the tracks? So I walked the dirt and punched the winner in the nose and took his horse. I wonder when my race horse will collapse. I am a terrible runner, considering my legs are slightly malformed.