ALL THE KING’S HORSES
By J.C. Duffy
When Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall I was grazing in the north forty, minding my own business. Word spread among the King’s Horses that some freakish egg-man had fallen and smashed into a thousand pieces. We all found this amusing. Were we callous? Probably. Is horse slavery a valid reason for callousness? I think so.
The King ordered his men to put Mr. Dumpty back together again. This was typical; whenever one of the King’s wealthy friends or relatives got into an embarrassing situation - a scrape with the law, a sexual escapade - his clean-up crew would swoop in and make things right, with payoffs and threats. Carrots and sticks, if you will. (I could go for a carrot right now.)
But this was the first time they had to reconstruct an egg-man, and they were stymied. A crowd gathered as they tried putting the pieces back together with Krazy Glue, but it was like a giant, 3-D jigsaw puzzle, and they couldn’t do it.
They noticed a few horses in the crowd, including myself, because we were laughing. A horse-laugh stands out, and it has always gotten me into trouble, especially when it happens at inappropriate venues, like weddings and funerals. When I was a colt I was always getting sent to the principal’s office for horse-laughing in class.
The head man called me over. “Maybe you think you could do a better job, Mr. Ed,” he said.
“That’s not my name,” I replied. “I bet I could do a better job than you if I had hands. But I have hooves, Einstein.”
“That’s not my name,” he said. “There’s always some excuse with you horses. I should have known you would play the hoof card.”
I was angry. I responded by Morris-dancing on the pieces of Humpty Dumpty, turning a thousand pieces into ten thousand.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Seabiscuit,” he said. What a wiseass. “You’re coming with us.”
He and the other thugs took me to the palace and brought me before the King. He told the old potentate about my dancing a jig on the Dumpty shells.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Trigger?” he quipped. Everybody’s a comedian.
“May I be Frank, Your Highness?” (It gave me a secret thrill to sneak my real name in without them knowing it!)
He had the gall to correct me. “It’s Your Majesty, not Your Highness.”
“Oh, par-DOAN!” I said sarcastically. “Your Majesty. Look, I’m sorry I trampled the remains of your friend, but… “
The King interrupted. “Humpty Dumpty was not my friend. He was a vile pig who cuckolded me with the Queen, and I wanted him put back together so that I could behead him. So, you did me a favor. How may I reward you?”
Wow. This was going better than I could have imagined!
“Well, your Majesty, while it’s a real honor to be a member of the King’s Horses and all, I think I’d like to just be a free horse. On the other side of the fence of the royal grounds there are these free horses, and they look like they’re having fun.”
“You mean the wild horses out there?”
“I talk to them through the fence, Your Majesty, and they’re actually quite civilized. Also, there’s this one cute filly over there that I’ve had my eye on.”
“I guess I’m never too old to learn something,” said the wizened monarch, “even from a stupid horse.”
I bit my tongue until it bled.
“I hereby grant you your freedom,” he said grandly. “Let me know how it goes with your new romance.”
“I’ll drop you a line,” I said, though I knew I wouldn’t.
