Yeeh that sure dun sounded good. That ranch handin'. Turned out that demon with the tattoo on her neck was runnin' more of a prison camp fer' critters. There was one filly, 'bout a year, probly born with a broken leg. No help was given. The demon ain't cleaned stalls in 5 YEARS! "Just spread the poop around". She said ta' me.
One ol' geldin' has a tumor on his sheath probly weighs 5 or 8 pounds. Oh YEAH I turned her in ta lotsa folks! We'll see what happens. Sometimes I wonder "Was I sent there, or was I just in the right place outa pure happinstance"? I tend towards the latter.. But you tell me.
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I believe you were sent there! Sounds like a death ranch to me.
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