To the guy who sold me this cloning machine, how do you live with yourself?

When I am out and about making giant lazy squares around an airport there is a stable.  Horseys.  So today, Sunday, I have to do something else this morning instead of sitting in the chair.  I'm going to see if an old race horse can talk.



 An old race horse and a young race horse


So an old race horse is talking to a young race horse in a stable the night before the big race.

'Now, young feller' says the old racehorse, 'do you know what happens to an old horse who wins his last race?' For he was getting long in the tooth and knew that his final race would be upon him soon if not tomorrow.

'No, grandfather,' said the young horse. 'I'm not sure what happens to old race horses who win their last race.'

'Well my boy, it's wonderful. They get put out to stud in the best pastures. They eat the best food, they live a long luxurious retirement, and they get to spend time with all the loveliest young fillies.'

'That sounds wonderful, grandfather'

'Ah, but do you know what happens to an old race horse that loses his last race?'

'Well, no grandfather I don't know.'

'Well, unfortunately any old horse that loses their last race will be sent to the glue factory. They will be dismembered and never get to taste the wonderful delights that await the horse who wins his last race.'

'Oh. Oh no.' The young horse was distraught to be burdened with this news.

'So you see, my son, my young lad,' continued the old racehorse, 'Why I am asking you--neigh, I am begging you!--to please let me win the race tomorrow.'

The old racehorse barreled on: 'Let's be frank, you and I. I am old and you are young. I am facing my last race, if not tomorrow then the next day. You are young and full of piss and vinegar. I am old and worn. Everyone knows that in a straight race you will beat me.'

'That is why, young feller, please from the bottom of my heart I am begging you to let me win tomorrow so that I can go on to the good life in the pasture instead of the glue factory.'

The young horse pondered this for a long moment. Finally, he clicked his teeth and looked back at the old horse. 'I sure would love to help you Grandpa. I sure would! But the problem is, you see, if a young race horse like me loses to an old race horse like you, Well they just might go and throw me in the glue factory. I'm sure you understand it's nothing personal. It's just that, like you, I'm trying to stay out of that place. I sure wish I could help you though.'

As I'm sure you understand, the old racehorse is devastated.

But this whole time a wise old hound has been listening to the conversation. Finally, he raises his head and calls upon the young racehorse: 'Come on, give the old guy a chance, will you?'

Both horses jump! 'Holy crap!' says the younger horse. 'A talking dog!'