December, 2007

A department store Santa Claus promised me I'd get the pony I so impulsively asked him for when I was just 5 years old.

I'd stood in line at the store to see him, and was on my best behavior. I finally got to blurt out my holiday wish to him.

Oh, wow! I was pretty damned sure I was actually going to be getting a pony. Why? Just ask any 5 year old boy what Santa's word means to him!

Every year since then that the pony has failed to materialize, I just found myself getting more bitter, cynical, disillusioned and overtaken by ennui.

I live in a townhouse now. I don't know where I'd keep him if he suddenly showed up. It would be awkward for both of us.
He'd probably be too feeble and winded to be able to support my weight. Neighbors would report me for animal abuse if I tried to ride him.

I imagine this now very miffed and equally perplexed pony in his alternate universe, growing older, too. He wonders where the boy is that he was supposed to go live with, and if the kid might have been a good rider...

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