The Crazy Horse by Adam Acidophilus

When the world was wild and ruthless, in a wild and ruthless land there roamed three wild and ruthless outlaws. Sometimes they roamed on horseback, oftentimes they'd steal a canoe, but mostimes they walked, with burning feet, across the desert and the prairie.

"We's got to find a town," one of them remarked one afternoon. "We's gotta rob ourselves a bank."

"Talking of rides," the third interjected, "what we really need is horses. Three of 'em. Those three over there for example."

Staggered by the sense of this suggestion – and the speed of the exposition – the outlaws immediately stole the three horses which were tethered to a shack; and they rode off before the occupant – and owner of the horses – could find his gun, or even his trousers.

"You'll live to regret this moment!" their hapless victim shouted from his doorstep. "For though one of those horses is incredibly fast, and another is remarkably clever – the third is completely and utterly mad!"

"Reckon I beat you two," remarked the first, who had the fast horse. "Reckon I was first by a good half hour."

"But you went the long way round," quipped his companion, who had the clever horse, "I just rode straight over the mountain.

"As for you – " the two of them sneered at the third, who had only just arrived, "what the hell were you doing up a tree on that thing anyway?"

In the following days the three outlaws made a great distance across the prairie, the fast horse leading, the clever horse covering their tracks – and the crazy horse skipping and dancing, and pausing to bathe in the rivers, and chasing the birds, and making extra work for the clever horse.

"Ain't nuthin' to do with me," sighed the third outlaw. "Mah horse is crazy."

Well of course, all this time, the outlaws had been incredibly uncomfortable, and weary and hungry, and concerned that their careers were heading in the wrong direction. And they kept their spirits up with talk of bank vaults and dynamite and dreams of women and paddle steamers – and frequent rows with the rider of the crazy horse.

And the other two outlaws grew distrustful of the third, and cultivated private jokes. "You're one crazy outlaw," they told him.

After many days of this discordant – if allegorical – comedy, the three men came to a town – the fast horse first, the clever horse by rail, and the crazy horse a few days later and in disguise. And having calmed themselves down with a few days drinking, and built themselves up with poker winnings, the outlaws settled in a plush hotel room to plan a daring robbery.

"You on clever horse, you sneak in the back and pick the lock, you on fast horse, you be ready to make off with the money, you on crazy horse – you create a diversion," the clever horse advised them.

And the following morning the three outlaws took their places – the crazy horse trotting along Main Street, and the other two sneaking round the back of the bank.

"They're robbing the bank! They're robbing the bank!" the crazy horse suddenly exclaimed – much to the astonishment of its rider. "Quick, somebody wake the Sheriff! Let's get us a posse cowboys!" – while the hapless third outlaw tried to muffle its words with his hat.

"You yellow-bellied no-good son of a low-rent private landlord," the first two outlaws spat at the third, as they reviewed the day's proceedings in the local jail. "Would have been over the border by now – but you had to spoil it, you goddam lunatic!"

"Ah didn't spoil it," the third corrected them. "Mah horse did. He's crazy!"

And the first two outlaws cursed and vowed never to speak to the other again – which was utterly absurd because it wasn't his fault; and in any case, he – quite understandably – hadn't been arrested and was over the border by sundown.