bronco busters and jesus freaks

Mountain man has raised the topic of rodeos which brings forth a story close to the heart of krixfort, a story that I hope I have not already told on this blog. (just like my head, I am having trouble remembering which stories have been recounted and which ones haven't.)

Sit back young'ins! This here's a doozy!

It all started back in the olden times, before the internets, before MTV, and before Thriller.  Way back to the time of Sigmund and the Sea Monsters, The Rockford Files, and Happy Days. See back in them days, all the little girls in grade school LOOOOVED ponies, or so it was thought. There was one exception to that notion,  one little girl who was not like the rest of her little pony lovin' girlfriends. That little girl was named Krixfort.

Way back when Krixfort was a young whipper snapper, just eleven years old, she lived in this place called South Seattle. Some folks were poor dirt farmers or mechanics, Krixfort's dad being one of the latter.  Since Krixfort's dad was just getting started and Krixfort's mom stayed at home raising the little mixfort, Krixfort's parents were a little strapped for cash.  But Krixfort's parents scrimped and saved, all their pennies and nickels and dimes, for stuff they thought was important for the raising and betterment of krixfort and little mixfort.

One day Krixfort came home from school where her parents were waiting for her with a BIG SURPRISE!

"Krixfort," they announced, "we are sending you to horseback riding camp with your pony lovin' best friend next door!"

Krixfort stood in the middle of the floor like she'd just been stung by a bucket o' bees.  What in tarnation could she tell her kinfolk? They worked so hard to send her to camp, a camp Krixfort was terrified of.

"Thanks! You're the best," said Krixfort, crying tears which she hoped to high heaven looked like tears of joy to her ma and pa.

The dreaded day finally came and Krixfort hopped in the van and headed off to The Miracle Ranch, to ride horses and accept jesus.  The first night wasn't so bad; it was the usual campfire affair with guitars, sing songs about jesus, crackling fires in the woods, and the soft whinnying of horses faint in the distance.

The second day, Krixfort was forced to get up close and personal with those big horse critters. These were not the ponies that all her friends had shown her pictures of. These were wild braying beasts, capable of crushing the tiny Krixfort with one bold stomp of the hoof.  Living tornadoes. Thunder and Lightnin incarnate. As the day progressed Krixfort went through the motions of learning to groom, feed, and saddle the horse. Luckily she had been paired up with the oldest, tiredest, nag of a horse (and yes she was grey.) Krixfort and the grey mare got along famously. Much to Krixfort's surprise, she began to kinda like the jesus horse camp.

On the last day of the Weekend Jesus and Horse Fest, it was announced at breakfast that all the young'ins would be required to participate in a RODEO!  "Hooray!", cheered the masochistic little urchins. "Boo", thought krixfort.  Dutifully, Krixfort trudged to the rodeo pen, praying to her new friend Jesus to please not let her get trampled by bucking broncos. 

Well folks, I'm sure you can guess how things turned out. . .some kids had a rip roarin' time, a ropin' and a gallopin' around, lasso-ing this and lasso-ing that.  Krixfort did her best to participate, coming in last in every event but even so. . .she bravely faced each new challege with a tiny glimmer of hope for success.

Then came the calf roping event. Well, it wasn't a real live calf, but it was a real live goat.  The rodeo judges showed all the boys and girls how to tie a proper claf roping slip knot, one that would hold those three goat legs together.  Krixfort was the first contestant up.

CRACK went the pistol shot and Krixfort raced out of the gate. Lightnin' never struck so fast. The horse had barely stopped galloping as krixfort flung herself from the horse's back toward the goat. The little bugger never saw it comin' as krixfort hit the goat like a steam train. Lickety split the goat was on its back, krixfort triumphantly kneeing it to the ground and grabbing the three legs to be tied. Reaching into her back pocket with her free hand like a rodeo champeen, Krixfort grabbed the rope and started to tie the prescribed slipknot. She could hear the excitement in the announcer's voice as he announced "30 seconds! She's almost done!" and krixfort started to get excited herself.  But she couldn't remember exactly how they had shown how to tie that dang slipknot.  She held the rope this way and that, trying to keep the baby goat incapictated while she listened to the excitement drain from the announcer's voice as he stated "One minute forty seconds."  And again, "Two minutes fifteen seconds. . ." Krixfort scowled and looked at the rope, trying to remember the exact knot configuration, not bothering to just try anything that would work, after all, that's what the judges wanted wasn't it? For the kids to tie that particular slip knot?

"Two minutes forty-five seconds."

Krixfort got up off the goat. She threw the rope down in the middle of the dusty ring. She tore off her rodeo number and in the middle of the rodeo ring of the Jesus church camp she said,

"Fuck it."

She then walked back to her cabin and packed her things and waited for her kinfolk to come and pick her up. 

Many years after the rodeo, Krixfort confessed to her ma, "You know ma, I never took too much of a shine to horses. That church horse camp was pretty awful. Why did you send me?"

Her ma said in disbelief, "awwwww honey, we thought you loved ponies. Ever little girl loved ponies back then.  All these years, you never said nothin?"

"Yeah, Ponies for my barbie dolls ma, not for me. Thanks for sending me though. I know it wasn't easy for you and pa."

"Awwa darlin, It was no problem at all.  Grandma paid for it on account of how much you liked horseys."

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If there is a moral to this story, let it be told in the comments because I can't think of one right now.

Cheers!