It all started when I decided to visit my cousin who happened to live on a farm. It had been awhile since I’d visited Margaret, not since that family incident in ‘93 that involved police, a stripper named Mimi, and tickets to an Elton John concert, but we’d made our peace not too long ago, even though Uncle Bob was still serving his 5 to 10.

On Margaret’s farm, there were several horses that she used as both working animals and for horse riding. So I guess it wouldn’t be too improbable that I could get licked by a horse there.

But it didn’t happen there, it happened on the way.