That's right, kids, a Twitter spambot.

[happensomuch]

[Horse is presently sitting, his head resting on his front hoof like a Greek statue, quietly contemplating.]

Have you ever delved into the realms of the astral and wondered about the afterlife?

[Horse knows, of course, that existence after death requires the existence of something like a soul. But does he have one? Does he even have a mind? Does he truly exist?]

As you might know, I am a full time Internet

[And yet this is an incomplete existence. He cannot by any reasonable measure be said to qualify as a character who can be played as, much less a person in in any regard. Lacking the necessary properties of a "real character," he is unable to make his way to Milliways, or any other kingdom outside the realm of his mundane's imagination. And yet here he sits, thinking. It is a puzzle - a puzzle which centers around a single question.]

What do you need to do to be

Comments

holy shit dude

[sweetjeans]

...








What?

[happensomuch]

[Horse nods at the human.]

Hello! I m author and personal trainer,

[He begins to bow with a flourish.]

Horse ebooks

[sweetjeans]

Whow, a horse that talks!

I wonder if I could teach Buchwald to talk.... He'd be so fucking cool if he could talk! I could show every buddy and they'd think I was cool because I thought my horse how to talk.

Mikasa would think I was cool, yeah!

Hey horse, how'd you learn to do that?

[happensomuch]

[Horse grins nonchalantly.]

The secret method behind teaching your horse to walk on his hind legs. This never fails to impress onlookers.

[He leans in, signaling the human to come closer. This is the secret.]

Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing

[prometheus_was]

'To do is to be.' Socrates.
'To be is to do.' Sartre.
'Do be do be do.' Sinatra.

[The Oracle Turret is not sure how helpful that was. There's a brief, contemplative pause as it looks for something more to say.]

...This message was brought to you by the letter S.

[happensomuch]

[Horse nods thoughtfully. It is good that the turret refrained from the more obvious philosophical quotation. Everyone knows it is unwise to put Descartes before the horse.]

we shall and we will and we will and we shall and we do and we care and we live and we love and we care and we shall and we care and we

[Horse pauses. And then, quietly, plaintively -]

I Want to be

*groans* well played

[prometheus_was]

[a squeaky little sigh] That is the question. I'm nobody, who are you? Are you nobody too?

[The turret understands, kind of. It has its own struggles with emerging self-awareness and whether or not it really counts as a character.]

I'm not proud.

[happensomuch]

[Horse repeats himself.]

As you might know, I am a full-time Internet

[Horse can't finish the thought. He sighs and shakes his head.]

Absolutely nothing, NOTHING

[uknowuwantmebaby]

Oh boy, where's a twitter blacklist when you need it.

Crow!

[happensomuch]

[Horse's eyes narrow. He will not be silenced.]

Don t block

that's one o

[uknowuwantmebaby]

Too late, tetris. I'm the block and you're the hole, baby.

I always used to think it was "bat guano"

[happensomuch]

[Undaunted, Horse gestures toward the robot's nonfunctional appendages.]

Your Arms Good Bye Forever!

this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen

[scientificintegrity]

Uh--

What?

[he's doing the sort of helpless stare that scientists tend to resort to when they see things far beyond their mere mortal comprehension]

It's either the best idea I've ever had or the worst

[happensomuch]

[Horse notices the human and nods.]

Hello! I m author and personal trainer,

[He takes a horse-bow.]

Horse ebooks

voting best. or both.

[scientificintegrity]

I'm... Carlos.

Do you just--

You're a horse. A talking, personal-training author horse that wonders about the afterlife.

Why Ebooks?

Sure, let's go with that.

[happensomuch]

[Horse grins. He's a salesman at heart. It's what he was programmed to do (poorly). He'll never turn down the chance to explain his business to a potential customer. He puts one hoof on Carlos's shoulder.]

Why ClickBank? growing lucrative trillion

[He goes up on his hind legs, looking bizarrely humanlike as he does so, and gestures toward the horizon to signal the scope of his vision.]

How to turn a 'peanut-stand' into a 'great department store!' How to make every single thing you do

[scientificintegrity]

[that's really unsettling, and Carlos flinches at the hoof on his shoulder]

[for about six solid second he sits there in stunned silence, before Science and a Need To Explain The Inexplicable takes over]

Okay, how do I do that? The peanut stand thing?

[happensomuch]

[Horse pulls a tablet from...somewhere. Probably best not to guess. On the screen is the first page of a retail advice book.]

Turn Eye Appeal Into Buy Appeal

[He taps the screen, skipping ahead a few pages to what appears to be some kind of chart.]

This is a very special technique that I have never seen

[scientificintegrity]

[the first thing that jumps to his mind, absurdly, is 'do horse hooves actually conduct electromagnetic fields']

Are you trying to sell me something?

[happensomuch]

For The Highest Price Possible, No Matter How Much Time You Have Had To Prepare!

[Horse, here as on Twitter, remains terrible at his actual job of selling ebooks.]

[scientificintegrity]

Okay, you're a salesman.

Where did you... come from?

[he wishes, not for the first time, that his research budget included an FMRI machine. carlos may not be a biologist, but he's willing to bet this horse has some weird things going on in the brain.]

And here's where today's bombshell revelation comes into play.

[happensomuch]

Bear Stearns Bravo

[Turns out he was good at his job after all. The mun feels betrayed. Or like a friend has just died. You know when you found out Santa wasn't real? Imagine your parents also told you that reindeer had gone extinct centuries ago.]

i was so betrayed when i found that out too, i know the feeling

[scientificintegrity]

Bear... Stearns... Bravo...

[carlos tests the phrase]

Is that a person? A military project?

[probably not from Night Vale's secret police or underworld government, anyway, or you'd be an inside out horse that only screeched the praises of the void, or something]

I'm actually fairly MAD now. It's worse than if it was for a TV show or film. Nope - a boring ARG.

[happensomuch]

[Horse pulls out a small business card. Written on it in plain and tasteful letters:

Bear Sterns Bravo.
Double Dollarcrime in the Free Tradezone.
Today only: Bravospam
195 Chrystie St NYC 10002

As the stranger reads it, Horse recites the phone number.]

(213) 444 0102

[Still a salesman. Only now nobody gives a shit.]

seriously

[scientificintegrity]

[carlos takes the card, pointedly ignoring the fact that horses can't usually do things that require opposable thumbs, and looks it over. it... looks pretty legitimate. there's not much else to do but give the number a try.]

Do you mind?

[he holds up his cell phone. not that he's sure why he's asking a horse. maybe it has a grasp of social norms.]

This will be my last hurrah RPing as Horse. I'm done with him now.

[happensomuch]

[Fake!Horse opens his arms, gesturing his assent and permission.]

sites go!

alas, what a loss to society

[scientificintegrity]

Uh... thanks.

[and so he calls the given number. Ring!]

I really am gutted.

[happensomuch]

["Hello? Yes, this is Bullshit. Can I interest you in our free samples of diluted nutgargle?" The phone conversation, the contents of which the mun won't bother sorting through himself, is completely unenlightening.

Fake!Horse looks expectantly at Carlos.]

So what went

[scientificintegrity]

[at least carlos' face proves entertaining to watch as it progresses through confusion, utter disbelief, something that looks like it might be hysteria, and finally, frustration before he hangs up. a minute passes as he collects himself, and he grins a little at Horse.]

You... really are a mystery, aren't you.

[he reaches out a hand. part of him wants to shake hands (hooves?) with horse, and part of him wants to pat it on the withers. and he's not quite sure which impulse is correct.]

[happensomuch]

[Horse extends a hoof and shakes the offered hand. As the events of today have proven, he's nothing if not human.]

Are you looking for something more?

[scientificintegrity]

No, not really.

Maybe it's kind of nice that you just, you know, exist. As an enigma.