Galloping Gertiss!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  No Houses
A cartoon horse walks into a bar...

Submitted: March 28, 2016

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Submitted: March 28, 2016

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"Look, I don't give a rip for your excuses--here's an idea, try doing your fricking job!" screamed the one-time huge cartoon star, Galloping Gertiss Gaulawanger.

"Look, I've called everyone. Nobody wants to hire an animated horse. They think of you as the past. They say, "Yeah, he was once up there among the elites, but the kids who liked him have grown up, and their kids are much more interested in social media than an old cartoon talking horse."

"Oh, they said that, did they? I'll show them ol--whoa, shit!" shouted Gertiss, as he staggered after tripping over the rug. His malt liquor slipped out of his hoof and went sailing to the floor, where it foamed out into the carpet.

"Shit!" he yelled, and immediately headed back to the refrigerator to grab another.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" asked his manager, Dave Walters.

He stopped, and whirled to face Walters, "No, I don't--who are you to ask me a stupid question like that? You're nothing but an agent who does nothing! You can't even find work for the greatest cartoon horse this side of the Pecos! You're a loser piss ant!"

"What side of the Pecos is that? The side where washed-up pecker cartoon horses spew bullshit, and blame everybody around them for their being a dick-horse?"

"You're fired--get out!" Gertiss screamed, and as he pointed to the door, his cloven hoof slipped off the beer he was attempting to hold, and beer arced it's way from his hand to the floor, where it landed with a sharp 'thud', and foam spilled out and soaked into the carpet. "Double shit! See what you made me do?" he shouted at Walters.

"What, I suppose you're going to blame me for not being drawn with opposable thumbs?"

"Get out, you smart-ass scumbag!"

******

After Walters left, Gertiss was in a rage. "I've got your 'I can't find work for an animated horse' right here!" and he tried to grab his crotch, but he must have been drunker than he thought, because he landed quite a heavy blow on his horse meat. His face turned white, at least underneath his cartoon fur, and he staggered back and flopped unceremoniously on the couch, where he alternated whimpering in pain, and shouting up a blue streak. After a few minutes, the pain in his nether regions began to ease somewhat. Grumbling, he gingerly got up and slowly, carefully, walked into the kitchen of his customized horse trailer, which the studio had bought for him when he was riding high, and went to finally grab another beer out of the half rack. His searching hoof found nothing--the half rack was empty. "Damn!" he swore bitterly. Now what?

First thing to do was to call Ken Dollup, the head of programming for his old network, and see if they might be interested in him for a reduced rate. He hated to admit it to himself, but maybe the problem was his high fee. Maybe if he agreed to work for a bit less? The phone rang three times, and then "Gigantic Studios, this is Bambi, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Bambi, this is Gertiss, is Mr. Dollup in?"

"Oh, it's you," she spit into the receiver, "I'm under strict orders that if you were to call, I'm to do this!" and suddenly he was listening to a dial tone--she had hung up. 

"Mother fuc--" and before he finished the curse word, he slammed the receiver down, but that apparently failed to satisfy his blinding rage, because before he had time to think about it, he hurled the phone right towards his specially-installed picture window, which promptly exploded, and shattered glass, and along with the hapless phone, flew out into the grass. And, because in was the middle of February, it allowed the freezing sleet-filled air to hit him with an arctic blast.

"Sheet-o-dear!" he screamed, and looked bleakly out into his yard, that was now covered with broken glass. As frozen rain, in the form of ice pellets, stung his face, he hopelessly screamed at the sky, "Now what?"

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.

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