It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah; any

[satire]

Before McDonald’s I bet "don't buy cheeseburgers from a clown" was a pretty hard and fast rule It’s flattering, really, that she might find him a threat – not to slap an old cliché around, but Satty is Not Like Other Guys. Which feels gross to type, because anyone who says that needs to be slapped. But the point is, he ain’t the hurting type, except maybe the hurt I put on the English language when I go down this ridiculous path. But, we digress. “But we’re friends,” he says. He doesn’t follow her train of thought, for after all, he’s come to join the mares as part of herd, happy to be led by a (form what he’s heard) rather studly Zorse stallion. “I won’t hurt anyone, much less my friends,” he is genuinely confused by this. True, he supposes his stellar physique makes him look like he’s signed to the UFC, but it’s a cleverly maintained illusion. In his small head, anyway. There’s a lot of illusions delusions there. “How did you hurt your leg? The stallion didn’t do it, did he?”