If ever there was a link between man and horse, I met her.

“You have small feet,” she said.

Size 9.5 is not small. It’s not a large shoe size but small it is not. I could see she was doing some silly conversion rate of shoe size-to-penis ratio in her head. While we were sharing observations, I wondered if now was appropriate to ask how many rocks she ate a day. Her teeth were arrayed in an entropic way that resembled Predator’s mouth or any Brits.

“Would you like to measure the end of my middle finger to the point where my palm turns into wrist?” I asked.

“Umm…why?”

“Because I know what you’re trying to compute and I don’t conform to whatever table you’re consulting.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as her face reddened as though someone had slapped it.

“The reason I have smaller feet is because the material was needed elsewhere,” I said as I placed my hands on my hips and slowly rocked back and forth on my feet while lightly thrusting my hips. “It’s not fair to my back but it’s my cross to bear.”

“A test of the validity of that statement is required. I’m free tonight,” she said while openly stealing an extended glance at the front on my jeans.

I wear slightly baggy pants so that my junk isn’t vacuum sealed in and testing the tensile strength of each and every fiber of my jeans. That’s not comfortable. My junk is on the outside for a reason. I don’t understand the trend of guys wearing girl jeans. It’s as though these guys emerged out of their sister’s closet instead of their own. Yes, that was a gay reference. Why do the makers of these jeans even put pockets on them? There is no possible way to fit anything in them, not even a credit card. I like slightly sagging jeans too not the jobs that require me to tuck my nipples into them. I think the jobs are called turtleneck pants. You know what I’m talking about; they are favored among the elderly crowd. A thong doesn’t ride the crack as much as I imagine those do. Can’t say for sure cause I’ve never worn them, only painfully seen them. The pants are usually khakis and give the wearer's butt the appearance of a sagging peach. Someone should make a butt girdle for old people so they don’t trip over their droopy butt cheeks. That’s how os coxa get broken, hips for you unacquainted with the term.

“You’re free? Do you normally charge? I’ve never been with a hooker and I’m not one to break tradition; especially with a snaggletooth. You’d do better trolling for willing participants/customers on the street. Even though you represent a less than savory element of our society, I’m okay with you being a woman of easy virtue. What I’m not okay with is you trying to be easy with me. Mister Ed may not have a problem with your oral cavity debacle so I suggest you try there and leave me the hell alone. Do you have an aversion to dentistry? Even with the breakthroughs in the dental field I don’t know if any one man is skilled enough to fix that mess, let alone the collective skill of ten dentists. They’d probably have to start by making you edentulous and starting over with implants. That mess is irreparable. It looked like someone tried to extinguish a fire in your mouth with an ice pick. You are the ugly duckling that never made it to swan."

She stood there blinking, too stunned to respond. Her jaw dropped fully revealing the chaos that was her mouth. Hitler was not a nice man but even he wouldn’t have put a set of chompers like that in someone’s mouth. It looked as though the snakes had vacated Medusa’s head, taken up residence in this girl’s mouth and hardened mid twisting. This chick could eat a cream pie through a chain link fence. I wanted to feed her a carrot or put a feed bag around her face and say “that’s a good girl” whilst I petted her. I saw no evidence of a mane or hooves though. She must have had surgery and also learned to walk bipedal. Gross.

“Look Seabiscuit, I don’t mean to be rude. I was just trying to understand. But now I don’t care anymore. I’ll take these size 9.5’s and be on my way. I assume you’ll meander in the back so you can graze on some hay or something. Thanks for your help. I hope I never encounter something like you when I become a dentist. That mouth looks like carpel tunnel to fix.”

I quickly paid for the kicks and bailed. Maybe I was a tad bit rude but at no fault of my own. The questions and look of disgust displayed on my face were all part of an automatic response, much like when a doctor tests your reflexes by hitting you on the patellar tendon with a pointed rubber hammer. Normally centaurs have the body of a horse attached to the upper half of a man/woman at the torso. In this case, the only horse component she possessed was its dentition. Sad really. I shuddered and replaced the image with thoughts of what the girls name would be that I'd be getting into that evening. Not that it's important or will even be remembered.

Happy New Year Kiddos!