...That's What She Said

From the time I was about three until I was about seven years old, I had a brown plastic rocking horse. It was the same horse that nearly every kid about the same age as me had growing up... the one attached to a metal frame with springs. For one reason or another, my horse was transferred from my house to my cousins' house at some point and it became their horse. One day, I was playing pretend with my two younger cousins. We each picked our favorite animal and ran around the house pretending to be that animal, and we also used our animal's "accent" when speaking to one another, as well as to the adults that we were severely annoying. My cousin Kevin, for example, was a lion for the day and everything he said began and ended with, "raawwr". It wasn't quite as annoying as that stupid cat that lived in the Land of Make Believe on the Mr. Roger's show, for he didn't actually substitute words with, "raawwr"... he just said it a lot. I was a horse (of course). I said, "neeeee-eh-eeee" before and after every other word or so. I cannot remember what Erin was, but I do remember that she was mad that she didn't get to be the horse since I used my seniority to call dibs on it. After an hour or so of us "raawwring" and "neeeee-eh-eeeing" and whatever Erin was screeching, the parental units decided to shut us up by serving lunch early. I remember that lunch perfectly, which is odd considering I couldn't tell you what my teacher's name was that year or what the date was... but the sandwich was bologna, cheese and mayo on white. The first halves of our sandwiches vanished instantly, but unable to sit still a moment longer and miss out on crucial play time forced the three of us out of the kitchen and into the play room, waving our portable lunches wildly in the air as we ran. I found it difficult to navigate and keep a steady footing amidst the mountain of toys while keeping a firm grip on my bologna and cheese. To my right, in front of the window, sat my horse... and he looked hungry. Much to my delight, his permanently gaping mouth was a perfect fit for my half a sandwich, so I decided to let him hold it for me as I screamed, filled squirt guns with water and did whatever other obnoxiously fun things there were to do. Being annoying really works up an appetite, as I later found out... but I had played it smart and saved some of my lunch for a mid-afternoon snack. Upon approaching the rocking horse, I immediately noticed that something was missing. I searched the floor, all surrounding areas and then my cousins' mouths. Both Kevin and Erin swore up and down that they hadn't stolen my sandwich and provided proof that they hadn't finished their own. Convinced that my playmates had been truthful, I turned back to the horse. He did look pretty hungry. I announced that my old horse had eaten my sandwich. Erin, eyes bulging in fear, got up and ran out of the room seeking comfort from my aunt. Kevin turned to me with a smile and said, "I didn't know horses liked bologna!" To this day, whenever I see an old photo featuring that horse, I am still convinced that it ate my sandwich. Just look at it... see those beady, shifty eyes? You can tell it was a sneaky, little thief, right?