“Sir, please get off the horse.” Constable Davis said politely to the man in the Akubra hat.
Brian Stadler was perched atop of the horse, it was three am, there was a slight breeze coming up from the south and the weather was very mild. Brian was visiting from afar, it was his first visit to the big smoke in eight months and he planned to enjoy every minute of it.
To many people the ‘big smoke’ Brain was visiting wasn’t big at all, a town of less than 20,000 people, four pubs and only two supermarkets, but things look different to different people and compared to where Brian lived Philipstown was like a capital city. Brain didn’t even come from a town, he came from an outback homestead with a population of twelve, less in the wet season.
Usually when Brain made the trip to town he flew Cessna 400, it made sense to do the trip in a single day rather than take three days to drive. Sometimes driving was required, like the times where he’d have to tow the horse float, the remote outback homestead was up with new technologies in farming but they’d yet to discover a way for the Cessna to tow a horse float.
“Sir, please get off the horse.” Constable Davis repeated.
But Brian wasn’t listening he just wanted to be left alone to enjoy the pretty street lights in the early morning darkness. He’d had a good first night in town and he wasn’t about to let a few police offices spoil it for him.
He’d arrived in town late in the afternoon, so late that after checking into his motel his first and only thought was that he needed to wet his whistle and find some tucker. Lucky for him the first pub was less than 500 meters down the road.
Despite the meal being little different to that which the homestead cook made there was something different about eating it in a pub surrounded by people he rarely saw. Both the chicken parma and the ice cold beer went down easy, the beer going down for a lot longer than the parma.
There was only five other people in the bar when Brian heard the last call bell ring, he ordered three more beers. He knew that last call was only the time the publican was required by law to stop selling alcohol, he probably wouldn’t be calling stumps for a good half an hour after that.
When stumps was finally called Brian downed the last of his beer, he thanked the bar tender for a good night. As he stood up he could feel his legs staggering and almost refusing to take the weight of his body. He gripped the bar stool and grabbed his balance.
“Oopth, it lookth like there wath an earth tremor. Get lot of theem in th big thmoke doya?” He asked the bar tender.
“Yes sir, frequently at this time of night.” the bar tender laughed. “Will you be alright to get back to the hotel, mate?”
Brian nodded, and as he turned towards the pub door said. “I left me ‘orse, Betthy tied up nextht door!”
Brian staggered out onto the street, the cool breeze hit him instantly but it felt refreshing. One step forward, one step sideways, two steps backwards, Brian made his way toward Betsy. “Lucky I canna be diddled far drivin’ a horth drunk,” he slurred as he stumbled forward.
How he got onto the horse was thing of stunning beauty and something a horse of lesser patience wouldn’t have tolerated. He started by climbing onto his knees on top of the green wheelie bin secured to the post, the plastic lid buckling under his weight but not breaking. Holding the post to steady himself he stood up.
“Thand thtill while I gets me leg over Betthy” he said.
With a heavy flop Brian landed on the horses back, the horse barely flinched. Holding himself steady Brian gently nudged the heel of his boots into the horses stomach.
“Giddyup ol’ gurl!”
When the horse didn’t move Brian nudged his heels into the horse again and again, by the fourth time he was wishing he’d worn his spurs.
“C’mon Betthy ol’gurl.” then his voice changed. “Yeah, thath th’ way me gurl. Giddyup n’ take mehom’”
Within seconds the drunken Brian was whooping, hollering and headed back to the motel, he was having so much fun he didn’t hear the officers voice the first or the second, but he heard it the third time.
“Shorry Ossifer, carnshtop. I near-ry at me room!”
Constable Davis turned to Office Bernie and said. “Shit! I wish Frank would take Trigger inside of a night time!”
*Authors Note: This post was inspired by another’s similar post only I took the silly option and based it on the even sillier true accounts, only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. The horse also asked for it’s identity to be protected, he’s been so embarrassed for the last twenty odd years that he hasn’t moved from the footpath.