I’ve always been one to tell a yarn. I love to tell tall tales. It is even better if someone actually believes what I say.
Heres a personal favorite of mine that sprang to mind after I watched American Werewolf in London with the kids the other night.
A smart business man was driving his sleek car across the windy roads of the Yorkshire Moors. It was a cold and rainy night. Lightening flashed across the sky and scared the willies out of the wildlife. The business man tried hard to see through the windshield, wipers were going at full blast and it made no difference.
Then to make matters worse, the engine spluttered and died, miles from nowhere. He popped the hood and tried his hardest to see in the driving rain what the problem was. He tried the engine again, nothing. He got out again and stared at the engine, hoping for an answer to hit him. Then he heard it, a deep exhale of breath behind him. He slowly turned around to see the flaring nostrils of a giant black horse, a black horse with eyes that burned like the fires of Hell itself. The horse leaned in close and whispered into the business mans ear “It’s the distributor,” it said. The business man although stunned by a talking and very scary horse, turned and checked the distributor, sure enough there was a loose wire. He turned to thank the horse but it was gone.
His car now working, he drove off into the night and with it getting late he decided to stop for the night in a small village and look for a place to sleep.
The Slaughtered Hamster was a small pub with all those things a North Yorkshire pub needs, a dartboard, some beer, and an outside toilet that doubles as a sheep pen. The business man entered the pub and instantly the chatter stopped and everyone glared at him. Feeling uncomfortable he ordered a beer and sat in the corner next to an old man who was busy drawing pentangles on his beermat.
The business man after a short while struck up a conversation with the man and decided to ask the man if he knew about the black horse.
The pub fell silent again and someone yelled something about not missing that dartboard since those two Americans were in there.
The old man looked at him for a second, took a sip from his beer and began to talk. “You saw the black horse? A black horse with eyes that burn like the fires from Hell itself?’ The business man nodded. “then God be praised that you saw the black horse, and praise the Lord that you didn’t see the white horse. A horse so white that its said that it’s as bright as the sun, and its eyes that burn brighter than the fires of Hell itself, BE PRAISED YOU DIDN’T SEE THE WHITE HORSE!”
“Whats so bad about the white horse?” asked the business Man.
“Well,’ said the old man, “for a start it knows bugger all about engines.”