The dead horse lay quite still in the gutter.
“I am an actor,” he said.
“That’s hard to believe,” I told him.
“You lose,” he replied.
“Lose what?” I asked.
He yawned. “You are lost,” he said.
The sun was about to set.
“You can lead a horse to slaughter, but you can’t make him think,” he mused.
“That’s a misquotation,” I said.
“You are nowhere,” he said, and then he added, “Oh my God, my God, here come the flies!”
“I don’t see any flies,” I said.
“Quite possibly,” he replied. “I am an actor.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe everything I see,” I said, and started to walk away.
But the horse, turning his head, said quite calmly, “You think you have problems. I can’t see everything I believe.”
By Bill Claflin (from Messages from the Message)