Donkey by Joseph Geagan

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The donkeys are braying in the field, so I go out to scream at them. Scream at them to be quiet, and of course they do not heed me. Instead of stopping one especially vile sounding donkey decides to unsheathe his donkey dick, which is in color, size, shape and texture simply revolting. He mounts what I presume is a female donkey companion, who in turn launches into a symphony of noises – brays I suppose. It is the sound one might imagine one would make if one had a knife stuck directly into one’s gullet and then this knife was twisted. I am next to their pasture gate now and I feel like leading them into a ravine to perish. Pack animals. I don’t see why anyone would need them today. I run along the pasture gate, which excites them and certainly does not help to abate their braying. I feel near clinically insane and then I am stung by a wasp in the neck.
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