Rock had written a story about a thoroughbred owner and breeder from a ranch in northern Arkansas near Marshall. The next day he received a series of emails and text messages, all of which read: "Rock, I am a lot richer than you think."
Rock wasn't sure how to respond, but considered, "I'm glad to hear it", and, "It's too bad everyone can't say that."
All he knew for certain was that he had exactly twenty-five minutes to get to the War Memorial Golf Course parking lot. Fuck these horse people. Get outa my way, douche bag.
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