Bill the Pony

by Vison

Bill the Pony was born in humble circumstances, a fact of which he was, at one time, quite ashamed. Like many who become Famous, he tried to hide his beginnings with Grandiose lies; and he spun many tales of the Marble Floored stables that saw his Birth. "Gold water troughs," he said, "were as common as Galvanized, and I et from a manger that had been designed by Ralph Lauren." Bill's Mum would hang her head in sorrow when she heard Bill spinning these Yarns, but she hoped that his ordinary common sense would one day Prevail.

Sure enough, when Bill had become accustomed to being Lionized, he gradually let fall the Façade he had built up. Unfortunately, he then went to the opposite extreme and adopted a False humility and took to "Hillbillying", and tried to make out his Humble beginnings had been even Humbler than they were. "Why," he said ,"we was so hard up that I never saw more than one Oat at a time! And my shoes were made of Wood, as Iron was too expensive."

Never handsome, at one period of his Life he took to having his Mane and Tail dyed, but it was to no avail-Lillyanne, the Filly of his dreams, would not stand head to tail with him in the pasture, swishing Flies away. She flounced away from poor Bill with a sneering Whicker, and took up with Merrylegs, who had known Black Beauty and was the Big Pony in the Pasture in those days. How Bill longed to trounce Merrylegs! And he would have, no doubt, if ponies could Fistfight, but having no Fists, it is something they seldom do.

Clever Hans had quite an influence on Bill. He taught Bill to count. Again, however, there was a Fly in the Ointment. Bill could count, but he could not Speak nor Write, so his Statistical Analyses and Probability Programs regarding the success of the Quest of the Ring were never available to the Larger World and Bill's genius with numbers remained unknown. He did think at one time of joining the Circus, but the proximity of Tigers made him a trifle nervous, and he loathed the Dancing Bears.

Bill had some acquaintance with the famous Shadowfax. "I could tell you things," Bill confides, "that would curl your mane and tail. But far be it from me to let the Cat out of the bag about that big Grey horse-just let me hint that he isn't all he appears to be, if you take my meaning. There won't be no little Shadowfaxes, if you get my drift." These two Equine heroes are not as Close as they could be, to tell the whole sad Truth. Ego and Pride intrude even here, and they will never go well in Harness together, metaphorically speaking.

Bill intends to retire to Rivendell and will compose his memoirs there. He has no plans to publish, however.