Byron Jordan Was Only Horsing Around
Covington, Georgia is a town of around 12,000 – the Newton County seat. According to the 2000 census (man will I be glad when all that shit is updated – a lot can change in ten years but let’s assume things are basically as the statistics state they are): Covington is made up of 51% white, 45% black, 40% married couples living together, 23% female head-of-household with no husband present, 31.8% “non-family” households. Those numbers add up to this: not a whole hell of a lot of “action” in the partner market. The women far out-numbered the men in Covington back in 2000, for every 100 women, there were 88.5 men. I’m perplexed. How the fuck is there .5 of a man? Did someone test positive for the “Y” chromosome but lacked the physical male attributes? Let’s hope Mr. .5 was still around during this census because I think I just found someone who’ll partner up with him to round that number down – that is if the owner of the horse farm ever catches him near his pasture again.
Early Tuesday morning, a neighbor lady looked out of her window and saw a sight you just don’t see all that often: a black man tending to the horses in his dirty pajama bottoms. Usually a farmhand dresses a bit more appropriately – work pants, tee-shirt, boots. And when I say “tending to the horses” I don’t exactly mean feeding, watering, cleaning up the horse shit. I mean screwing. Penetration. More than one. No wonder Byron Jordon had to look elsewhere for love – he’s not a very loyal man.
The lady quickly summoned her husband who quickly came to the conclusion 37-year-old Byron Jordan shouldn’t be copulating with the livestock so he did what any conscientious neighbor would do…called the police. Well actually, he would have called the police had he thought they’d actually believe him. And I understand that concern. It’s not often (enough) you get a phone call like that: “911. What’s your emergency?” “Some dude looks like he is fucking my neighbor’s horse.” “Sir, can you describe what you’re seeing?” “It’s gross, but I’ll try. I’m standing here looking out my kitchen window and some nasty fucker is behind this horse real close-like, moving his pelvic area around like he’s got fire ants in his pants or something. Only he looks like he’s enjoying it. The horse doesn’t seem to have the same opinion about the ordeal.” God, I wish I could receive a phone call like that. But instead of phoning the police, the neighbor called the owner and of course the owner went rushing to the pasture to catch Byron in the act. And he did.
Supposing the owner yelled something to get Byron’s attention (and more than likely startled the horse), the crazy fucker quickly mounted and started fucking horse number two. Now, this is the part of the story the local source didn’t delve into very well. This idiot actually had time to start screwing a 2nd horse? Was it when the owner started charging Byron that he quickly pulled out and thrust himself onto the 3rd horse and started his gyrations all over again? What was with the delay? And just how long can this nasty fucker keep a hard-on? Jesus.
The owner physically pulled Byron Jordan off the 3rd horse’s back and escorted out of the corral as they waited for the police to respond. You know, I’ve always imagined these guys standing on a crate or something to be able to reach that appealing asshole but I’ve never really considered them climbing upon the horse bareback and shit and experiencing the ride of their life. Actually, that’s got to be some talent if the horse starts to gallop, hanging on for dear life and fucking it at the same time. Quite amazing if you think about it. (Note: do NOT try this – could cause physical injury, mental impairment, and if caught, jail time)
Upon arrest, police stated Jordan was wearing filthy pajama bottoms with an opened fly and he smelled to high-heaven. Oh, I’m sure he did. Byron Jordan was charged with bestiality and giving a false name to an officer. He received a $3500 bond and some dumb-ass bailed him out. If convicted, he could be sentenced anywhere from one to five years for horsing around.
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