Okay. Hello, minions. It's been a while. How have you been? For the sake of not getting sidetracked, I'll assume your answer was "great."
So this week was the first (and next to last) horse show of the season for me. As you might possibly know, this entails going to the fairgrounds with my riding friends, our teacher, and our occasionally agreeable, scarily intelligent half-ton mounts with the intention of entering the ring for a total of ten minutes and attempting to prove that we do indeed know how to walk, trot, and canter. As you also might possibly know, the aforementioned mount of my choosing is Jack, a small, aggressive, argumentative, athletic, and often manipulative black Morgan. (I often ask myself why I like him as much as I do. He grows on you.) Usually, when I go to a show, he likes to play a little joke on me where he pretends he has no idea what any of my cues mean unless they could be interpreted as "go faster." This, along with his vertical deficiency and lack of a glowing pale coat, means that he and I have only won a few decent ribbons.
UNTIL THIS TIME~~~~~*~*~*~*~*~!
On Thursday, we came to the show for our morning class. Donning our ridiculously spiffy riding/business outfits complete with head-exaggerating helmets and gloves that reduce the functioning capacity of our hands, we mounted our horses and walked through the barn (it was raining) to the practice ring. Jack took off on the wrong lead going into the canter, one of the riders had a borderline mental breakdown, and we had trouble convincing horses to enter the ring, but it was managed somehow. And, aside from one horse attempting to race for half the class and the continuation of a breakdown, we all had a good class. So it was time for the ribbons.
Usually, we have a variety of numbers, but for this show, our riders were 126, 127, 128 (me), and 129. So when the announcer called out the places, it was more tense than usual. The winner of this class was number one hundred and twenty
....
.
..............
1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1.
In case you cannot perform basic arithmetic, it was 128. And in case you can't check back for who had which number, it was me.
Needless to say, I was all WHOA WUT IS THERE A MISTAKE LOL DID I WIN A THING?
There was no mistake. I did win a thing. I collected my ribbon, took a glorious victory lap, gave Jack several handfuls of carrot pieces, and spent the rest of the day sleeping.
The next day was our afternoon class. We arrived three hours early, so I read D. Gray-Man in full show attire and agreed with my friend while hiding painful exorcist-related emotions that Allen was indeed the cutest thing.
We went to the practice ring. I sang random lyrics to Jack, including Les Mis and a couple of irritating songs that were stuck in my head. Then we were supposed to canter, and Jack decided he would rather run sideways to the middle of the ring. It took a whole lap to get him to the rail, but he calmed down as soon as he picked up the canter. The class before us took forever to get into the ring because the class before it had some mishap, but they eventually left. Then I tried to lead the way into the ring, gave up when Jack started whipping around, and followed my friend, whose horse had barely stopped attempting to be stupid when the gate closed and judging began. Aside from trying to turn the wrong way going into the canter, Jack did a good job of being sane. As did everyone else (surprisingly, the two most difficult horses behaved the best). So it was time for ribbons again. First place
Went
T
O
Me again!
Again, I was pretty shocked despite being aware of how wonderfully amazing I am. I got a tricolor championship ribbon and a plate that was confusingly decorated with a dragonfly, and Jack got more handfuls of carrots and the chance to take his bit and tight braids out.
After the show, we all loaded the trailer because our teacher needed to get back home as soon as possible, then we went to Longhorn for dinner. As a consumer of no meat that is not bacon (which is pretty much too glorious not to eat), I would not have been excited if there hadn't been macaroni and cheese with bacon mixed in on the menu. I had that, and our table consumed four baskets of bread within ten minutes. Then we left because we were about to die from exhaustion.
And, after getting up early again to play my trombone, here I am.
I hope you liked my story.
Farewell. Peace out, homedudebroskilletdog.
-Xenon
