Dancing Diva

Once there was a rich little girl named Izzy

who kept her parents and servants alike oh so busy

meeting her demands, always at her beck and call.

The more she asked for, the more she got; it seemed she wanted it all.

While other girls could only dream of their own pony pet,

Izzy had her own fancy stable built like a little palace, or a castlette.

Her first one was fine, a fancy Fell Pony filly, but she was nowhere near done.

With such a stately stable, how could she settle for having just one?

She soon asked for, wanted, demanded, and thusly selected

many more ponies from lands, near and far, that next to be collected.

Soon came Paint Horses, a Haflinger, Caspians and a Tinker too.

Then arrived a galloping cloud of white Lipizzaners, but Izzy was not yet through.

"I love them all, Daddy," Izzy remarked, "I love their canters and gallops, how stately they walk...

but I want just one more, Daddy. For my last one, I want a horse that can talk."

The wealthy father was at a loss, no matter how he bargained, pondered, and thought.

Tried as he could, a talking horse, at any price, simply could not be bought.

Izzy pouted and begged, but even after driving herself hoarse from crying so shrill

that one dream did not quite come true; her talking horse eluded her still.

Years later, she enrolled in business school, but still undeterred.

Somehow, some way, someday, she still wanted the impossible for her herd.

Graduation was no finish to her, only the start of her next big race.

To make her wish come true, she knew she had to reach first place.

The business world was brutally competitive, not for the faint of heart

but Izzy made the most, and more, of her family's head start.

With all her passion and drive, her ambition and wits, her charm and chatter

she then climbed up a very high corporate ladder.

Izzy reigned over Bayard Biotech, a strange choice it might seem, but now she had the means.

After all, where better to procure a talking horse than a company that engineered genes?

Soon she chose a choice Arabian sire and dam to be paired for pedigree perfection.

A profitable project, she promised, hiding her personal intention.

Another race started, because from conception to birth, they had only a year to achieve

an expensive experiment that the investors, somehow, still believed.

But back in the lab, the expecting broodmare snorted and whickered.

All around the hungry horse, scientists argued and bickered.

They only agreed on one thing: a talking horse was not easy to make.

The boss's mare, the foal, and all of their jobs were at stake.

How much to edit, to modify, to graft, to splice?

If they had more money, more time, that would have been nice.

But black lines turned red, to the accounting department's growing dread.

Izzy could have given up, but went on fighting instead.

She beguiled backers, courted creditors, dodged debts, finessed financiers, led on lenders, ran rings around regulators, but still stakeholders demanded due dividends.

Her short career, it seemed, was approaching an early end.

"Wait and see," Izzy bargained and begged, pleaded and urged,

but the boardroom still berated her expensive equestrian splurge.

Worse still, the government had begun its own investigation.

Izzy sat alone that night, preparing her own signed resignation.

By early next morning, when all had seemed lost,

just after Izzy decided that wishes had too great a cost,

Dancing Diva was born, greeted the world, and with grace true to her name, stood upright.

To the paying public, with cameras and phones and camera-phones, she was quite a sight.

None could have predicted that Bayard's downward spiral

would flip upwards when Dancing Diva went very, very viral.

Unlike her shy mother, Dancing Diva greeted her audience, a natural star.

The newborn filly danced for millions of subscribers... so far.

Izzy flew back to her ranch that evening, her family in tow

hoping she would not miss the prodigal filly's early next show.

Some scientists had once warned Izzy "Never," others said "Give her a week,"

but there, that night for Izzy, Dancing Diva really, truly, did speak.

Maybe it was something those newborn ears heard from visitor or hand hand after sunrise,

but whatever the reason, Dancing Diva's first word that night was "Surprise!"

That surprise brought the backers back; profitability returned, and more.

But Dancing Diva was more than a voice; more surprises waited in store.

She didn't just talk and didn't just sing; she learned too, devouring everything she could read

with the same speed that she snacked on clover, sweet milk, and sunflower seeds.

By next year the yearling went from viral star to real star, making Bayard rich from her voice.

The next surprise was less pleasing. Izzy, and her board, were then asked, "Do I have a choice?"

Dancing Diva had alfalfa and apples and grasses and carrots and a nice stable.

She wanted more; she stopped talking, except to demand her place at the table.

Bayard almost broke the bank waiting and hoping she would again speak.

Investors panicked and the public protested; the seat surrendered later that week.

Dancing Diva eyed Izzy across the table during their next meeting.

They stared eyes to side-eyes without so much as a greeting.

Izzy proposed her plan for next year to the company she had led.

"Neigh," Dancing Diva countered with slammed hooves, "try my plan, just for once, instead!"

The company changed course, biotech startup becoming a media empire with great gains

and soon after that, that managerial mare was gladly handed the executive reins.

Izzy's ouster was swift after that and her mood was quite sour.

Who could have known a talking horse would ever command such power?