A Horse's Tale

It was a peculiar case from the start. The call had originated from the old Halatasi farm, which was unlikely enough, but the 911 dispatcher was unable to provide any detail, saying only that the caller's voice was muffled and incoherent, and yet managed to sound indignant all the same. It made Officer Blivitt nervous, and he unsnapped his top holster snap as he approached the house.

The Halatasis were polite and helpful, but acted surprised to hear that a 911 call had been place from their residence. Nevertheless, they allowed Officer Blivitt to inspect the house. Everything was stunningly normal. Officer Blivitt asked if he could take a look at the barnyard on his way out. The Halatasis shrugged an affirmative. So, off to the barnyard he went.

That was when he heard the voice.

"Officer! Thank God you're here! Arrest that criminal immediately!"

Officer Blivitt looked in the direction of the sound. All he could see was a horse.

"Um, excuse me," he said to the horse, "was that you speaking?"

"Not ... exactly," whinnied the horse. "It was ..."

"It was me!" barked the voice indignantly. It was still coming from the general neighborhood of the horse, but ... it seemed to be coming out of the wrong end.

"Yes, me!" repeated the voice. This time there was no mistake. There was a perturbation in the horse's tail, followed by an indescribable odor. "It's me! Jeb! Arrest that miscreant immediately!"

"Uh, what miscreant would that be, Mr. ... Jeb, did you say?" asked Officer Blivitt, still trying to get his brain around the notion of talking to a horse's back side.

"That's right," said Jeb. "It's that cat, of course!"

"Ah," said Officer Blivitt. "The one sleeping in the straw over there?"

"The very one," confirmed the horse's patoot. "At last! Someone is listening to me!"

"Uh, what did the cat do?" asked Officer Blivitt.

"What did he ...? Why he traipsed in here, big as life, and flouted all the rules of barnyard decency, that's what! Just went wherever he pleased and did whatever he wanted. Didn't listen to a thing I told him! This is my barnyard, you know!"

"Well, none of that sounds like illegal activity ..." began Officer Blivitt, but Jeb was on a roll.

"We don't allow cats around here," blared Jeb. "God doesn't like 'em. I know 'cause He told me! So, I tried to tell the cat nice, but would he listen? No! So, then I ordered the other animals to beat the crap out of 'im, and ... and ... you know what they said?"

Jeb was quivering with rage, and Officer Blivitt took a step back, afraid that the angry horse part might lose control of his aperture. At that point, a pig slowly lifted his snout from the trough where he'd been feeding and looked their way.

"We told him we'd had enough of his horseshit," said the pig, and returned his attention to the trough.

Officer Blivitt thought he could see Jeb turning red, even under his thick mat of hair.

"Arrest him!" screamed Jeb.

"For sleeping in the barnyard?" asked Officer Blivitt.

"No, no! For ... check his immunizations! Yeah! I bet he didn't get his feline leukemia shot! Has he been fixed yet? No? Cut his balls off! Check the Department of Homeland Security database! Render him to Saudi Arabia for torture! He has to have done something! Hey, I'm giving you some good ideas here!"

"Escuse me," said Officer Blivitt politely. "Just what do you have against that harmless-looking cat?"

"Are you kidding?" fumed Jeb. "He made me look like a horse's ass!"

Note to the real Jeb: Don't forget to have the IRS check Michael Schiavo's tax records.