No, this is not a euphemism.
It was the night that we were supposed to pick up Marc and Alana from the airport (tomorrow night). It was evening and we were getting ready to go pick them up. My mom was going to leave for a bike ride (at night, on a Sunday for some reason) and asked me to load her bike up for her.
When I went into the garage (no doubt expecting a car with a bike rack on it), there was instead a horse. It was smaller and light brown and it had a dark blue recycle bin garbage can harnessed behind it like a carriage.
My mom had a variety of bikes in the garage, one of which had black with hot-pink polka dots on all the metal parts (which was kinda awesome). It also had two front road bike wheels (the skinny tires), like those motorcycles with double front wheels. I picked up the polka dot bike and put it in the recycle bin behind the horse.
Clearly the horse did not like this. He moved and the recycle bin dangled behind him at an odd angle. Afraid the bike might fall out, I wanted to tie the bin to the horse better. I approached him and he kicked at me. I don't like horses and this is why*.
I grabbed at his reigns to bring him (face first) near to me but he walked, indignantly, into the far corner. I went for him again, but he stomped and kicked at me again. I was sort of afraid but knew I had to be tough with him.
I grabbed at his reigns again. This time he brought his head over to me and I leaned down for some reason. He opened his mouth and bit my head. Bit my head! Dang horse!
The cat jumped on me and woke me up at that point. Thank you, kitty.
*It should be noted that I like horses as a species and I'm glad they're around. I just don't like interacting with them or riding them at all.
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