Head
I walk into the barn. My fists are clenched with the pitchfork in my left hand and the axe in my right. One by one I chop off the heads of the horses that are upon me. Some of them attempt to run. But I get them. Blood oozes out of their necks and run down their horse torsos. Then, I stick the pitchforks up their behinds then abruptly rip them out. I still continue while blood splatters on my face. After the massacre, there are three horses left.
