I'm not scared of horses.
That doesn't mean I don't get a bit squeamish and pee my pants a little when I'm around them. But, I'm not scared of them.
You see, in 6th grade my class went to a week-long camp. At this camp, we got to ride horses. Before we got to RIDE the horses, we have to brush the horses.
Little 6th Grade Narm went up to the horse, gently brushed his side - and than that fucker reared back and kicked me right in the shoulder. I mean hard. Like for the next month it looked like I had the Indianapolis Colts logo tattooed on my back.
End of story, right?
They made me go up and pet the damn horse again. After it just Chuck Norris'd my ass. Ok, what could possibly go wrong? I got closer to the horses head so it could see me and not be frightened, raised the brush and...
OH SWEET JESUS IT IS KICKING ME AGAIN! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP WITH THE KICKING!
This time the bastard kicked me right in the upper thigh. 6th Grade Narm was about 2 inches from never being able to make little Narm Babies.
And then they still made me ride the fucker. Who does that? It is like losing a boxing match and then having to take the winner out for ice cream. Nevermind the pain - what about the humiliation? That horse powwwwwny'ed me, and here I was, riding him around like nothing was wrong. Like some domestic violence report on Cops - no, officer, I just fell down the stairs.
So now, when I see a horse - I assume it is going to start blasting hooves in my direction. Does that make me scared of horses? Are you scared of putting your hand on a hot stove? Or have you done it before and it hurt like hell, so now you don't do it anymore.
No, I'm not scared of horses. But there is no way in hell I'm taking Mr. Ed out for ice cream.