Although the horse was black, Frankie Mason insisted it be called, “Silver!” His mother, now accustomed to the smell of horse dung and pee, had long since ceased to be shocked by her sons behaviour. Frankie`s father, had taken to visiting the local hostelry, the “ Horse & Farrier”, and although the name above the pub door made him sigh, he had made it a second home! Frankie on the other hand, delighted in the day to day chores that horses provide. He had in fact, gotten himself into a rather neat routine.
Summer was well on that year, and Frankie, with Silver, had been covering some good miles on the local roads, tracks and fields. Their partnership had progressed from the first days of ignorance on Frankies part, and total apathy on the part of Silver. Frankie had sourced a farrier, and a feed merchant, all paid for by his regular paper round, and his other odd jobs.
The Mason`s, had acquired a problem, in the form of Mr James Rhiorden. He was by profession, the Clerk of Works for the City Council! This and the fact he lived next door but one, to the Mason`s was in itself, a mere trifle, were it not for the fact that Rhiorden had a morbid fear of all things hairy! He lived by himself, and wore horn rimmed glasses. His hours were precise, up and out of the house by seven thirty sharp! Back from his work at six pm, exactly. The real problem arose one late morning in September.
It was the day for Mr Clamp, the local farmer, to collect all the dung from behind the Masons yard. He was late, unavoidably so, not to put to finer point on it, Mr Clamp, bless him, would never collect dung from Frankie or from any one else! He had gone to that great dung heap in the sky!…So it was that when Frankie`s mother came home from her cleaning job, in the afternoon, she was somewhat surprised to see the dung heap still there. It was a neat heap, however, it had its own job to do, and that was fermenting! It did so with a rather active and rapid production of methane, and that rather wonderful odour, so reminiscent of manure!
Six o`clock that evening, Mr Rhiorden came home, unlocking his front door, he entered his neatly and precisely arranged home. It was while removing his Abercrombie and Fitch overcoat, that his nose began twitching. It was unmistakable, that smell! Rushing to the rear of his abode, he was dismayed to find he had left the kitchen window open. By now, his eyes were watering, and his nose was becoming blocked and irritated by the smell. His house had become tainted with the smell of horse!
Frankie was tending to Silver. The little horse was happily munching on another net of hay, and had settled into his daily grooming, when the stable door burst open! Frankie was startled, the horse its eyes half shut, became instantly alert! In the doorway, stood the Mr Rhiorden, his face bloated and red, shouting at the top of his lungs! “ That bloody animal has to go!” Of course, poor Frankie was caught off guard, but not so Silver! No, the little horse hated noise, he hated angry people, and he hated this jerk Rhiorden!
The next few minutes were a complete blur for Frankie! All he could remember, was that Silver shot past him, butted Rhiorden out the door, and as Rhiorden found his feet, he was hit again! Cursing and sputtering epithets to all and sundry, he managed to stand. But not for long, Frankie had appeared from the stable, and had taken hold of Silver`s halter. Rhiorden, his clothes covered in dung, and staggering like a drunken man, he turned and made his way to the rear of the Mason`s yard. His parting words to Frankie were, “ I`ll have that horse removed and turned into glue! mark my words boy!” It was at this point that Mrs Mason was entering the yard, and as she passed the unmoved dung heap, her hands inadvertently shot out! They collided with the chest of one Clerk of Works! His surprise and shock was plain for all to see, his balance altered, he began the short but down ward fall into Silver`s revenge! He lay, legs akimbo, and almost buried by the steaming pile! Silver whinnied!