People don't like to visit one horse towns. They need to know that if the horse breaks down there'll be another one to replace it immediately. Ideally people like to visit places that have done away with horses altogether. Let me tell you this: my town has no horses, and not because we outgrew them, we just didn't get any in the first place. Nobody came to visit, for we had nothing to give. Surrounded by desert, plagued by wasps, we didn't have a lot to offer the tourist trade.

Until one day a baby started dancing. Nobody knew where the baby came from, and we could only guess at his reason for dancing. Never in all our days had we seen a baby with such rhythm. He had the moves of a six year old. Through the sun and the rain, the night and the day, that baby danced.

News got out pretty fast, and our no horse town quickly became a tourist hotspot. People were coming from all over the world to see the dancing baby.

"Dance!" they'd cry, but their words were wasted letters, for the baby didn't need telling.

Our economy exploded, and our population soared. The baby had literally put us on the map, because it wasn't until he'd been dancing for six months that our town was deemed good enough to be allowed onto maps.

Scientists from across the land came to study him, but he defied science. Nobody dared go close enough to touch him, for fear of disrupting his flow.

He never aged. He never stopped dancing. Was he Jesus? There were some who believed he was mechanical, but his moves were too fluid to be robotic. Except, of course, for his robot dance, which was flawless. Some believed he wasn't a baby at all, but a small man. This theory was widely dismissed, because only babies wear diapers.

Finally, one day, many years after this boy first busted his moves, someone dared to get in close enough to examine him in detail. He wasn't a baby at all. It was one of those hairless cats.

John, Texas.

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