Attack of the Killer Donkey

Hi everyone, I hope you’ve had a wonderful holiday season wherever you may be. Sorry I’ve been a little bit silent the last few weeks on Facebook and the blog, but I’m back from my holiday break to share my latest magazine article with you. So without further ado, here is a lovely little story about my dear father and a much less dear donkey.

 

Attack of the Killer Donkey

“Yes sir, that there’s the finest ass I’ve ever raised,” said the lying donkey farmer.

Dad turned from the overall clad farmer to examine the animal on the trailer. The old, graying donkey was squat and homely. It looked a little like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. That is if Eeyore had a pack-a-day habit and Christopher Robin had beaten him with a logging chain. Its left eye was milked over, and one ear was notched and torn. Dad leaned in closer to the trailer, and the donkey pulled back its ears, a low rumble reverberating from its chest.

Dad took a slow step back and asked, “Did that thing just growl at me? You don’t often hear that from donkeys.”

“Naw, he’s really an ole softy,” the farmer said. “He’s just purring at ya, kinda like a sweet baby kitten. I call him Fluffy.”

Dad glanced back and forth from the grizzled donkey to the farmer wearing a too wide smile. He only needed the animal to keep coyotes out of the field, not for a petting zoo. Plus, the price was fair. So, with a shrug Dad paid the man and got into the truck to haul Fluffy to his new home.

Making a loop in the cow pasture, Dad put the truck in park and walked around the trailer. Fluffy was making that weird “purring” sound even louder now, so Dad very cautious opened the gate and quickly got out of the way. The little gray donkey bolted out of the trailer and into the pasture, bucking and hee-hawing in what no sane person would describe as sweet baby kitten behavior.

Fluffy eventually spotted the cows grazing just a few yards away and broke into a full gallop heading straight for the herd. At first Dad thought this was a good thing. We’d had donkeys in the past that tended to shirk their duties and stay far away from the cows they were meant to protect.

However, just as he entered the herd Fluffy let out another sharp “Hee-haw!” and kicked the ever-loving snot out of the nearest cow. Dad barely had time to gape in surprise when the donkey charged a week old calf, bit down on the back of its neck, and began violently slinging the poor baby back and forth.

Perhaps, the Fluffy had gone blind and senile in his old age and honestly thought he was doing everyone favor by taking out what he thought was herd of coyotes in the field. Or perhaps Fluffy simply was what he was, a crazy old jackass. Regardless, Dad found himself shouting, “That’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to do, Fluffy!”

Picking up a stout stick, Dad took off at a full sprint to save the calf from the sadistic donkey. When he was only a few steps away, Fluffy dropped the unfortunate calf, turned, and charged at what he probably thought was a man-shaped coyote wielding a stick. Dad let out a squeak and, hurling the stick at Fluffy, turned tail and ran. The insane animal chased him several yards to the hay barn where Dad flipped over the gate to safety.

Dad had barely hit the ground when Fluffy turned and galloped back to the herd to continue his crusade against the calves. He kick and bit at any calf that would get within his reach. Dad had no idea what to do. He didn’t have a gun in his truck, and a stick clearly didn’t intimidate the hell-beast in the least. He glanced frantically around, looking for anything at all that could be used as a weapon. His eyes stopped on the big blue New Holland tractor and the nice and pointy, three-pronged hayfork protruding from its front. Dad smiled a terrible smile.

The tractor’s engine roared as it ramped a terrace row, and Dad hit the oddly high pitched horn with a sharp, BEEEEEP! He of course did not want to skewer a donkey with a hayfork. Just the thought of that made him queasy. He’d try to run him off first. However, those calves were his responsibility and livelihood, and Fluffy the insane donkey might not leave him with any other choice.

Dad shifted to a higher gear and sped towards the herd. Fluffy paused in his attempt massacre when he spotted the tractor with a man hanging out of the door shouting, “Who’s the big man now, Fluffy!?!” BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEP!!!

Showing an impressive amount of agility for a gamey little creature, Fluffy darted to the side just in time to dodge the tractor. Dad turned in his seat, and to his disbelief the possibly possessed donkey had immediately ran to the next calf and continued trying to bite and stomp it to death.

Dad jerked on the wheel, spinning the tractor around and gunning it towards the donkey. Say what you will about Fluffy, but that little jack wasn’t scared anything. Instead of running or even dodging, Fluffy kicked back with both feet at the front tire of the moving tractor. This, predictably, did not go well for Fluffy, and the little donkey was sent skidding forward and tumbled face first into the mud.

Apparently Fluffy’s fall made him lose his appetite for murder, because the donkey leapt up from the mud and took off galloping across the field away from the calves and the madman on the tractor. Dad threw the tractor back into gear to give chase, leaning out of the door and shouting, “Yeah! Looks like someone brought hooves to a tractor fight!”

After going on a merry chase across the field and all around the farm, Fluffy eventually ran himself right into the catch pen. After closing the gate and making a lot of rather crude celebratory gestures at the Fluffy, Dad checked on the calves. Except for a few scrapes and some possible PTSD, all of the calves made it out just fine. As for Fluffy, he went straight back home to live with the lying donkey farmer’s family. I assume none of them survived.

The End

 

I hope you enjoyed the story today. If you happen to be affiliated with some sort of publication and would like to publish some of my work, feel free to send me an email or contact me on Facebook. The links to both are in the main menu of this blog. If you read the story and decided that I’m a pretty swell guy, maybe you could do me a huge favor and share it on Facebook or whatever social media thingy you use. I’d greatly appreciate it. If you are apprehensive about sharing a story with the word “ass” in it, just remember that Jesus also said “ass” like a lot, so I’m pretty sure you should feel bad for judging me and share my story as an apology.

Tootles,

Chase

This entry was posted in My Life Stories and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s