The Four Horses of the Apocalypse

Quicksilver looked down his hot black nose with derision. The big, fat, stupid, bay gelding next to him was greedily eating all the sugar beet again.

"Hey, Baubles," he sneered a whinny, "Left any for the other two? Honestly, you're a disgrace to Famine. I've no idea why he puts up with you. Come the glorious day you're more likely to suffer a heart attack than strike fear into the hearts of men."

"Ah, go chew the cud," Baubles mumbled back, before raising his tail at Pestilence's steed in a rude salute.

Both forgot their irritations as they heard the clatter of hoof beats against the courtyard. Minutes later, a piebald mare trotted happily into their midst, rolling her mad eyes in a friendly way toward the others.

"How went the war?" Quicksilver asked in earnest. "Plenty of disease opportunities there, H?"

"Lovely, mucky, bloody, sticky, sores all around, my cheeky lad!" she barked out in a twitch of her mane. Every one called her 'H'. She got a little crazy if you called her by her show name, 'Horseradish Sauce'. Apparently her trainer had found it amusing to use the stuff as an incentive to go berserk in a mele. Not as amusing as what proceeded to happened to him...

"Well, I better get ready then and join 'His Knibs' down there," Quicksilver sighed, and loped out of the stall. He looked at the neat and orderly one next to his; the one covered with the dusty cobwebs of the unused. No wonder Death's steed was bone - he was always too busy to stop by the manger.

"Yup," agreed Baubles, "No rest for the wicked."

(278 wds)