Iron Mike was a seething bubbling cauldron of rage & hate. He had received the call that his horse 'Hobbs is a filthy arsonist' had died in a fire (Poththibly Arson related) he felt numb.

He dials his more handsome associate Dmitry "Bad news friendth, some more news on our jointly owned horthe. No he hasn't won again, first it was the coke addiction, then the sprained ankle. Now its gone....Yes gone, gone...Not missing like RonaldCarabbia the other sort of gone, the permanent kind...Some sort of fire." Mike hears Dmitry quietly cursing into the phone. "Don't worry friend I am heading down to the stableth now to find out what the thuck is going on."

LATER AT THE SILVER DOLLAR STABLES

"Falloutia I need some answers...How could this happen? Electrical fire? Something more thuthpiciouth? Arson? HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?"

Mike takes a moment to compose himself. Murderous rage almost boiling over.

"I have tried to recruit renowned mystery solver Sherlock Holmes to invethtigate for me, but some bathtard seems to have murdered him. All I have to go on so far is that vile Hobbs was seen asking to have his horthe stabled away from mine, but surely after the burning down of the Better Basketball Bureau surely he wouldn't graduate onto killing a poor defencelethth animal? It's a bit 'On the nose' to thuthpect a man called Hobbs to have burned down a stables containing my fine horse named Hobbs is a filthy arsonist..."

Mike stifles a sob.

"Until someone to blame is found I (&Dmitry, thus the full support of LA) are holding the Silver Dollar Stables & Chicago as a whole responthible for this whole methth. I am down $250,000 for the horthe purchase, training fee's down the pan & a hell of a lot of emotional damage. I loved that thucking horthe like a son..."

Iron Mike grimaces.

"At least tell me you have insurance..." 

The smartly dressed man strolled slowly into the whole situation. He felt sad, he heard that Chicago's negligence had resulted in poor MikeTyson being out of pocket and more importantly a poor defenceless animal being brutally killed. He would not stand for this as an animal lover. He looked at his beautiful goats. How could Falloutia stand by and allow the brutal treatment of this defenceless animal. He shook his head. I worried what would happen when HeadCoach who was a known animal lover and had a special way with dogs found out about this grievous and blatant disregard for the safety of Detroit property and the life of a beautiful creature. He pulled out his notebook and added another black mark beside some names. He pulled out a card from his jacket pocket. 

"MikeTyson, here take his. Its the number for the Better Betting Bureau. They will defiantly be interested in this. I hope they can help and I am sorry for this unfair and in just loss". 

He pulled out a black arm-band and handed it to MikeTyson. He put one on his arm and walked off solemnly. 

Iron Mike slips on the black armband & nods his respect to BBB You can always rely on mug city guyth to pull together when the bad times hit.

"Thank you for the reminder brother BBB. Despite my numerous threats to the Lottery commision to involve the better betting bureau if the lottery didn't find its winner in mug city this week, they seemed to bend & Senor EduardoCojones brought the huge win home"

Iron Mike dials the number on the card.

"Hello yeth lithten, I would like to report the silver dollar stables & in fact the entire city of Chicago who myself & co owner Dmitry hold completely responsible for the death of our horthe...Yes I will hold..."

A sloppy and sleazy wiry-haired individual appears on the scene. Wearing a brown trench coat, a hat pulled low on his head and his wiry hair sticking out the sides. he surveyed the scene. He spotted MikeTyson and headed towards him. He’s chewing a large cigar as his eyes dart from side to side taking everything in. Standing in front of Mike he only reaches chest height. He grabs Mike by the hand and shakes it firmly.

“I’m so sorry for your loss Mike, not right, it’s not right.”

He tuts and shakes his head when he finishes speaking.

“Shocking, who would have believed it. A horse left to burn alive. Terrible, disgraceful. I am glad you gave us a call. My name is Chief Investigator Richard Noggin”.

He paused and looked around.

“I will tell you later when fewer people are around. I am a member of the Better Betting Bureau and unsettled, to say the least with Chicago’s behaviour. We call on you to be fully compensated for the emotional and financial damage this has caused you and your better-looking partner. We also ask for any glue that was created from the burning of your horse to be returned to you. I call on Chicago to issue a statement of the events and to guarantee to others that their property is fully protected and insured”

He nods to MikeTyson and they wait for a reply.

It was just under two hours until race time and there was still no official word on the barbecued status of 'Hobbs is a Filthy Arsonist'. All Hobbs knew was the meat pie trade was flourishing with the sudden availability of charred horse meat. Waste nor, want not.

"Mike, naturally I'm so sorry to hear about the situation at the stables. Personally I find Falloutia to be a perfectly adequate stable master. My horse is in fine condition and on course for victory... unless Jarrick's horse gets a helping hand again..."

Hobbs shrugged and did his best sad eyes.

"I only wish I'd been able to help but as my 180-200 finest friends and witnesses can attest to I was only in the area to help revitalise American culture in the mid-west as well as save the children and the rainforest. As my friend Ian would attest to I'm a very nice person.'

MidpoinT came strolling seemingly from no where. With a nice stick with multiple points and some marshmellows, Mid is sad to reallize he is to late to get a good roast going. "Pfft, what the fuck not only do they sucks and and kill one of the greatest fighters of all times horse. These fuckers couldn't even keep the fire lit so Middy could enjoy roasting some marshmellows." Taking a stroll around the property shocked at the damage this "accidental" fire had caused, MidpoinT is not shocked to realize that Hobbs is the type to touch a hot stove multiple times before finally realizing the fuckers to hot to touch. Not knowing to much about Falloutia the only thing Mid can say is its strange he wears a suit that seems to represent fire. Maybe eh's one of those pyromaniacs, possibly he just was listening to @Hobb who probably just wanted to try roast horse meet. So many directions to go, but not sure what is going to be done to make this even and set things right. Middy can only think of a couple things, there's the simple way and can just shoot at least one leg of each of the other horses and for now MikeTyson can use the donkey that Mid nicknamed Cobb. However, there is the much more fucked up, yet funny way of getting a hooker to give Hobbs chlamydia and then me can race personally as 'Hobbs is a filthy arsonist V2 - Arson Crotch Waddle.' 

"Well, fuck it. I may be to late to join in the races and betting, but at least he can try to help out and get himself a good laugh in the process."

Falloutia limped into his now dusty gambling office.  In his absence it had fallen into disrepair. Fortunately he left the local gypsies with a substantial amount of money to maintain the horses.  They were looking well and had been looked after properly. However they notified him of a fire that had killed MikeTyson horse. Alas "Hobbs is a filthy arsonist" was no more, a fire however is not without a sense of irony.  It was at that moment that a  shadowy figure approached behind him. it was Hobbs.

"Hello old friend, such a shame what happened to that horse"

At that moment he realised what had happened; he couldn't prove it and Hobbs knew that. Falloutia needed another option, someone independent to hold and train the horses in secret. He began his search...

Meanwhile MikeTyson needed compensation, and so he sent the gypsies back to Ireland with enough money to find a replacement horse.

In the meantime the now delayed 10th July race will go ahead on the 3rd August. It will be named "The Filthy Arsonist Memorial Cup"

All charitable donations will go towards a proper funeral and burial for the horse on 5th August in the Chicago Business District.

Hobbs was shocked to see the awakened Zombie Falloutia return from the dead. He thought he'd died in the fire, or at the very least gone into hiding in shame at the events that unfolded.

"Falloutia, what is this? You come out here without even apologising for what happened? This is not very nice behaviour. This is very evil behaviour. What would Ian 'Illuminatiated' Beale O'Keefe think of this?"

Hobbs shook his head.

"I'm still awaiting my share of the victory pot from the now infamous non-running race from July. Furthermore, myself and my 180-200 bodyguard friends and associates are completely and utterly traumatised by seeing a poor defenceless, innocent horse burn in front of my very eyes..."

A bodyguard whispered in his ear eyes wide with panic at the implication

"...Err yes when I happened to be passing, that is. I of course, didn't see the actual fire start nor see who started the fire. Just pay me the compensation owed and I can move on from this horrible arson event once and for all."