Why I Didn’t Get a Pony

[Thanks to Jack Shalom for the idea!  Jack is proof that anyone who likes radio shows and magic cannot be all bad]

My parents wanted to instill in me the joy of having my fondest desires frustrated.

All of my previous pets had died of mysterious stompings.

Santa neglected to poke air-holes in the over-sized box, then panicked and hid the body in a snowbank.

My backyard was large enough for a pony, but my mom said that the animal would probably hurt itself on the clothesline that she would put up if we got a pony.

To prepare me for the responsibility of taking care of a pony, my parents had me take care of an egg. Then, every day they’d check the egg, shake their heads and say, “Still no chick”. When I protested that the egg was actually a plastic one, they threw me into the backyard and beat me with a clothesline.

I disagreed morally with the concept of riding on the back of a beautiful intelligent animal that could easily stand on my throat if I fell off…

When I complained about still not having a pony, my mom replied, “Then, what do you think you’ve been eating for the past six months?”

I couldn’t find any sexy ones… with wings…

My parents decided it was cheaper to buy me a horse and then have the legs surgically shortened.

My parents bought me a nice Indian Pony but it ran away and opened a casino a few blocks away. When I went to the casino, it acted like it DIDN’T EVEN KNOW ME! It did comp me a club sandwich, though…

My father gave me a choice between having a pony or a staph infection. I panicked and picked the wrong one.

[if you liked this, try Signs Your Husband Might be Cheating on You]