"The Tale of Bob and Hungry" by D. ´Emera´ Chien

Bob was hungry. Hungry as a horse. How hungry can a horse be, anyway? And how do you tell if it’s hungry? Bob had no idea. He just knew that he was hungry (as a horse).

As his stomach growled and burbled like a washer on high, he dismounted his mighty puce charger, Hungry, who immediately fell to his knees, blowing as only a winded horse can. Bob circled the area, searching for prey. Nope, there wasn’t a single critter in sight.

“Dang. So much for those gryphon cutlets I was thinking of.” He turned to his panting steed and flopped down beside Hungry. “Oops. I guess I’ve foundered you. Eh-heh. Hungry, I bet you’re hungry. But don’t worry. I’m hungry too. As hungry as a horse. A horse like you.” Hungry whuffled in confuzzlement. What a dumb pet Bob was. He could never make himself clearly understood.

Bob tried nibbling on a blade of grass. “Ew. How does a horse—a hungry horse—like Hungry stand that stuff?” (Which is to say, grass contains cellulose, which serves as roughage in the human digestive system, building up indigestibly in the intestine-I don't remember which, large or small, and actually the large intestine is smaller, at least in length, but larger in width, really-until enough accumulates and one evacuates in a smelly but relieving manner, BUT, grass is still technically inedible for humans, unless one likes how it tastes green.) Groaning, he leaned back against Hungry’s broad behind, hoping to find solace in the beauty of the peat bog around him.

Somewhere, a frog belched hollowly with all the resonance of a steel drum. A few marsh wraiths shrieked and screamed like banshees—of which there were several, watching Bob from within a dank, clammy cave, evil intent radiating from their malevolently slitted eyes. A few platoons of goblins battled with each other up north, yammering and clamoring fit to raise the dead. A squealing virgin sacrifice was thrown to a mass of purple-veined, sucker-covered tentacles reaching out of a black quicksand pit, but the kraken was deprived of its meal by a marauding basilisk, which was quickly felled by a stray crossbow bolt from an insane goblin. The maiden sacrifice, seeing her chance for escape, quickly girded her loins and ran, shrieking hysterically all the while.

Bob sighted blissfully. “Such peace and beauty is found in the marshes.” Hungry looked even more confuzzled.