The Blog of a Constitutional Peasant

At least I think that was his name, as I recall it. Anyways, he was one of the larger bulls. He was also an insolent bastard. The fact that the rider wasn't reprimanding him too harshly made me feel better about some of the visible wounds on his head. But not much. Also, I saw entirely too many elephants chained up in their garages when not in use. But I digress.

Muk was an insolent old bastard, which was pretty funny. He'd veer off the line of the convoy, he'd rip up some grass and munch on the run, he'd trot a few paces to cut off another doddering elephant, and he'd snort every time he was given direction. Only when the rider got off to take this picture did he start to behave. The rider walked alongside him for the rest of the trip, and he was sweet as pie. It was as if he was telling the rider "I know how this works, jackass -- I've been here for twenty years. Just get the hell off me and stop tugging on my goddamned ears, and we won't have any trouble. Capisce?"