“Ladies and Gentleman, our next rider— Two time world champion, Wyatt Collins!” The speaker shouted out, as the boy mounted the bull. Loud banging ringing threw the arena as the bull kicked its legs up in the shoot. The boy hung on with the grip of his hand, before the shoot launched open. The bull snarled & snorted as he kicked & bucked. Wyatt keeping on hand in the air.

2…5…6..

8.0 seconds

The buzzer went off. The sound filled his ears, letting his body roll off the bull in an erratic sense, being careful to avoid the bulls flying hooves. And the wranglers tried to corrall the animal back into the shoot. The boy let out victory yell before it was cut short, by the raging sound of bull barreling towards him.

He ran, gripping onto the rail bars of the barrier between the audience and the ring. His hat falling at the front of your feet. He didn’t seem to notice. After the bull was handled and away into its pen, he stepped down from the railing, turning on his heels to leave.

Without his hat.