Horse Soup

>be me, bonky
>it's the murderbowl
>no relation to the horsebowl
>there's murder in the horsebowl
>but murderbowl is open to all people
>it's just a coincidence that only horses play in it
>look, i don't like talking about interspecial differences
>but maybe horses are just a little better at murder than people
>and that's okay
>our differences color our social ecosystem
>it really only becomes a "thing" if you make it a thing
>so the murderbowl is all the prior year's best murderers murdering in a literal bowl
>so everythig slides down toward the center
>into a big pile
>and the last murderer living climbs the pile to escape via a rope that is released from a hatch in the ceiling
>some years no murderer makes it out alive
>and you think that would disappoint audiences
>but there are no audiences to the murderbowl
>murderers just do it for the love of murder
>because they want to be the best at what they do
>it's truly the only pure sport, unadulterated by commercialism and capital, remaining in the world today
>pickle horse-man and i are neither spectator nor participant
>we're just technicians
>a few technicians are necessary to run the operation
>we do it on a volunteer basis
>on this occasion we both have a long pole with a barbed hook at the end of it
>and this tool is used for sorting through the pile
>to see who's dead
>it's very dangerous work
>we can't allow the murderers to grab the pole
>but by the time we start using the pole, most if not all the murderers are already dead
>so we start catching and pulling murderer-corpses aside
>sorting through
>monitoring for any sign of life
>then i notice pickle horse-man having trouble retracting his pole
>which might just mean it's stuck on a murderer-cadaver
>but it might also mean...
>i'm watching him
>he's startin to sweat
>oh
>oh not good
>oh no
>he gives his pole a tremendous yank and it pops free with a spray of gore
>good
>he gives me the thumbs-up all-clear symbol
>when a wet tentacle of intestine sprays over me
>i have about a half second where i look down
>into the eyes of the murderer
>this year's winner of the murderbowl
>the greatest murderer of the year
>before they yank me down into the bowl
>where i land face first
>and slide down the blood-slick ramp
>into the bodies below
>i struggle to get my footing
>just in time to see the murderer recede into the soup of dead murderers
>i gallop full-tilt to pickle horse-man's end of the bowl
>i tell him to let down his catch-pole so i can climb back up
>but his eyes are distant and dark
>no life or love behind them
>he shakes his head solemnly
>and the rules of murderbowl echo in my head
>"murdermurdermurdermurdermurder"
>i've become a participant
>a wave of gore swallows me up
>and i'm grappling with the murderer
>they have hold of my hind-leg
>and they're twisting
>and the tension is building
>i squeal!
>my leg bones squeal!
>my femur snaps with a thundering pop that send ripples through the pile!
>i feel nothing!
>i'm too pumped with adrenaline!
>it rings in my ears!
>i reach back and grab hold the murderer in my teeth
>i've grabbed them by the muzzle
>i bite through their nose and lip
>revealing their teeth and part of his skull
>they grab me by the throat!
>and chomp a hole in it!
>i'm screaming through my throat hole!
>with my remaining limbs i gallop away
>through pools of hot blood and guts
>as the murderer backbites me and tears my tail away
>i'm falling!
>i'm collapsed in tubes and bladders and orifices
>but i see before me
>like providence
>a shining shard of bone
>glistening in the stadium lights
>i grab it
>and thrust it up skyward
>just as my opponent leaps on me
>to do me in
>and there is an instant
>where
>through showers of blood droplets
>their wild eyes reveal
>they know
>this is the end
>and the shard of bone
>skewers and slips up into their neck
>through the throat
>through sinuses
>and soft tissues
>and cartilage
>up into the brain
>killing them instantly
>and when a horse dies
>their brain emits something
>like an emp
>or a shockwave
>and for a moment
>you feel the sum total of their everlasting soul
>and all i felt in that moment
>was awe-inspiring fear and sadness
>this poor wretch
>had never known love
>nor a soft touch
>and as they slump over me
>and their blood trickles into my eyes
>i feel their strong heart slowly beat its last
>and their lingering warmth dwindle
>and i hold them
>something in me doesn't want to let them go
>and i realize
>i love this horse
>i don't want to see them go
>i want them to overcome their trauma
>i want them to know love
>i want them to live forever
>and to grow in spirit and virtue
>i won the murderbowl that year
>as i win most things
>but there is no real winning in this world
>the glory, illusionary
>the spoils, irrelevant excess
>and all that matters
>is not
>but the space between us,
>nothing
>yet also everything