Pray They’re Horsing Around, Part 2

I am working as a wrangler at a resort ranch where folks come up from the city to play cowboy for a weekend. I take care of the horses, get them saddled and bridled, and get the guests mounted up. I also escort them on the trail rides.

One guy saw this entire process and I spoke to him for much of the hour on the trail. When I got him off the horse, he actually asked me what I do for a living. I just dropped my head and said, “You tell him,” to a fellow wrangler and walked into the barn.

Surely barn doors are really just entries to alternate realities where horses go into stasis with no bodily functions. Kind of like parking a car. And who would want to be paid for dealing with the people?

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Pray They’re Horsing Around