Rocco

Rocco the Horse was convinced he was the definition of grace and power.

Unfortunately, he mostly delivered chaos with good posture.

At any sign of excitement, Rocco would launch into what he called “controlled acceleration,” which looked suspiciously like sprinting directly into nearby objects and pretending they weren’t there.

The chickens called it climate change related panic. Rocco called it momentum science.

One day, he attempted “controlled elegance,” successfully demonstrating neither control nor elegance, but still bowed as if judged on style points.

The ducks applauded out of politeness, bless them. The fence considered legal action.

By sunset, Rocco stood proudly in his paddock, slightly out of breath and facing the wrong direction.

“Flawless execution,” he declared.

The fence did not respond, but it looked tired.