Of course not. Would I do a thing like that, no, I told the Flarking truth I am not noted for story telling. And those things that jump from tree to tree. We call them possums, not little Flarkers, or snipes or what ever it was.
My horse saw one of them once. It fell out of a tree we passed under I swear I heard the horse screem Flark as he moved side ways at a rate of knots. I gathered him in and took him back to the tree and pointed out the error. It was not a Flark but a possum.
The blood runs hot in the Thoroughbred and the courage runs deep. In the best of them, pride is limitless. This is their heritage and they carry it like a banner. What they have, they use. - C.W. Anderson