Elephants Plotting against Me #WITWContest

Prompt: My Talking Pet is Plotting against Me

"Yes. He said the human soul is like a chariot with a pair of winged horses. One of the horses is well-trained and reasonable, while the other horse is unruly, only follows its desires and sabotages the ride."

"Okay."

"When the horses are nurtured with wisdom, goodness and beauty they grow wings, and the chariot can fly."

"But you are elephants!" I almost scream. "And I don't see wings."

"Yeah, well," the elephant says.

"The wings are just a myth!" Grumpy grumbles.

"That's completely crazy." I'm starting to feel sick.

"The Socrates guy also got the number wrong", the thirteen-year-old horns in. "Everybody knows people have four soul animals."

"Four?"

I hear a soft clearing of a throat. An unfamiliar elephant with glasses looks at me.

"Take it easy," he says. "Everything will be all right."

„Now, who is this?" I ask.

„The armchair psychologist," the elephant on the sofa replies. "We figured you might need him."

"I want you to know that the helping trunk is always extended," the armchair psychologist says.

I don't know what to do. My head hurts. He pats my shoulder.

"Why don't you come sit on the sofa with us."

It takes me a minute to gather my thoughts.

"I have questions," I say.

"He wants to know what the trunk is made of!" the thirteen-year-old trumpets.

"No," I say. But now that I'm thinking about it... „I want to know what's going on here."

The armchair psychologist clears his throat again.

„To cut to the chase," he says. "We're here to replace you."

"Why?"

"We want to live as a herd!"

„A herd?"

"Yes. And it doesn't work because you are generally unaware of things and kind of in the way."

"I am?"

I look over at Pretty, who is reapplying her eyeliner. Things could be worse, I think. Then my eyes wander to the second sofa.

A bony old horse in a floppy hat and raincoat sits there smoking a cigar.

What the hack!

"Who's the old horse?" I ask.

"That's Ro-mare-o," the thirteen-year-old whispers.

"Is he male or female?"

"He thinks he's male!"

"Is he another one of my girlfriend's soul horses?" I ask the group.

The armchair psychologist nods in approval.

"Why does she get horses and I get elephants," I complain. "Horses are so much more elegant."

The old horse with the cigar scratches his rear end and blows his nostrils. #NotAllHorses

"Look at the bright site," says the nameless elephant who has seen my gaze. "He's a fun guy to go out with. He loves whiskey and he knows a lot of bawdy jokes. Just go over and talk to him."

I walk over to the other sofa and try to engage in conversation: "Hey buddy! Why such a long face?"

"I'm having a burnout," the old horse says.