Behold, here comes the great sensation,
Top of all our conversation:
1,000 dollars to the name
Of him who makes "Black Fury" tame!
But do beware and keep in mind:
This contest is no easy kind.
(Contestants over sixty-three
Had better play the Lottery.)
Bobby Box wrote this poem on the occasion of a big celebration in Black
Bell
which was to go on for a week. The revels were in full swing. The
citizens of
Black Bell, especially the cowboys, were demonstrating their courage
and skill
at riding wild horses. Everybody, of course, was hoping to win the
first prize of
1000 dollars, but it was also quite clear that this time it was not
going to be easy,
indeed that it might be impossible. Among the animals selected there
was a
dangerous stallion that the most experienced older citizens considered
unbeatable. It was called the "the black magic horse" or "the black fury" as it was
enormous, unnaturally
strong and powerful and had terrified the whole of Arkansas for years
with its uncanny
characteristics. It was first caught near Black Bell. People said that
the extraordinary
animal had gone into the corral of its own free will as it had a
mission to fulfil in the
area.
Bobby Box strolled in. He walked all over the place as though it were a
playground, taking no notice of either barriers or of the shouts and
cheers. He
found himself enveloped in clouds of dust, sand and dirt and in the
middle of
the craziest adventure. He heard a strange sound: "Keck ereck ereck!"
Then -
Oops! - Look out! - through the dust he saw a cowboy riding on a
bucking bronco. -
"My word! What price his life?" said Bobby to himself and the cowboy
was
already flying through the air high up above his head. Bobby called out
in
sympathy, shouting: "Good bye!" The flying rider vanished out of sight
and
his flight seemed to Bobby to be bound for heaven on a one-way ticket.
- Bobby
suddenly got a fright - a large set of horse teeth with sharp edges
emerged out
of the dust clouds. Oh dear! The riderless nag smelled the dilettant.
Bobby made
off, but those teeth had already seized his trousers.
The shame of it! What a disgrace! Everybody was delighted and the
spectators were beside
themselves. Bobby ran on straight, his hat hanging down over his eyes,
his feet
scarcely touching the ground. He broke out in a cold sweat. The enraged
nag was
close behind him: he could hear it grinding its big teeth and the
unshod hoofs
pounding dully in the loose sand. As he raced along, Bobby was
constantly
reminded of Mr. Jim's cloven foot and of the nightmare to which this
had given
rise. He remembered the fallen trousers, the stamping, whinnying horses
whose
hoofs he again thought he heard. Had that nightmare been a premonition
of this
catastrophe? Immersed in such thoughts, which careered through his head
like an
icy wind, he had reached the back of the stables. A cowboy with the
number 13 on
his back was running ahead of him. Racing along at full speed, he
overtook this
cowboy, a strong lad who was to be the next rider and who was therefore
making
for the stable. The manager was already waiting outside stable Nr.13;
he took hold
of the first man to arrive, so instead of the designated cowboy, it was
Bobby who
got shoved on to the trapdoor as soon as he charged up. Bobby was
delighted to have
been saved, as he thought - but he was mistaken! He found himself on
the huge back
of the snorting "Black Fury" that was sending sparks flying in
all directions.
It took him a while to understand what was happening. The doors opened
and the amazing animal to whose neck Bobby was clinging shot out into
the arena like a rocket whistling through the air; it tore over the
roofs of the
stables on the other side and flew back in a loop to where it had
started out.
Now this unnatural horse performed the most extraordinary tricks. It
leaped
up about forty feet into the air and came down so slowly on to the sand
that you
would think it was suspended from an invisible parachute; then it
danced and
pirouetted to exotic music coming from somewhere or other. Finally,
with a
remarkable sense of rhythm, it battered down all the barriers and sent
them
flying like matches over the rooftops.
Two long blue tongues of flame shot out of its nostrils and could be
seen far
and wide. In his terror, Bobby had held on for dear life, hoping for
the best.
But the black magic horse played ball with him, dislodging him again
and again
with a bizarre movement from its back, to catch him as he fell. Finally
the stallion
appeared to have been tamed, as it allowed Bobby to sit up straight and
rode
quietly around the arena with him. - Bravo! - bravo! - Bobby had saved
the honour of the cowboys. - The sheriff handed him the 1000 dollars.
Everybody
seemed to be beside themselves with enthusiasm, but in fact green envy
was eating
them up and before anybody knew what was happening, the "black magic
horse" had
vanished.
Hurray for me the lucky winner
Stuffed with money like a sinner!
How much is life, how much the world?
Should I get my ties impearled?
Or should I loll with loaded eaters
savouring truffles, slurping huitres -
Bobby Box with haughty mien
Parading in a limousine?
For God's sake, Bobby, don't be rash:
Marygold must have the cash.