This is Marty. As the eldest of the burros, I should tell this story. It's a Halloween story sure to scare small burro foals and make grandma burros mad.
I should start at the beginning. We were taken from our home, which, apparently, humans say isn't ours to begin with. Some of them even called us "feral". Personally, I prefere 'wild' because it has a sense of mystique you just don't get from 'feral'. Those humans also said that we don't belong in the desert. Well, it was humans that brought us there in the first place. They wanted us to help them carry their stuff while they dug for pretty rocks that they were excited about. That story came down from my ancestors. They brayed with laughter at the absurdity of it all. You can't eat a rock! And all those crazy miners seemed to buy with their rocks was 'liquid trouble', as the wise, old burros called it. If humans took us to that desert in the first place, why blame us for still being there over a hundred years later? Anyway, that's where we were and, as my grandpappy used to say, you belong where your manure drops. Well, humans feel differently. They said it was unfair to the other animals, so we were hauled away.
Instead of going into the various details of how I came to be here, at this little farm, suffice to say that it was a tedious and winding road. However, here I am, and these three humans that adopted us have proved themselves to be generous treat dispensers. Plus, the work is easy. All in all, I thought it was safe to settle into a pleasant life of domesticity.
I was wrong.
IT came in a truck and trailer that rattled and banged along the road. IT was loud, large, and shaggy. Although mostly human in appearance, IT had none of the quiet, gentle tones that our humans have. ITs large paw-like hands smelled of chemicals and hooves. Worst of all, when I was tied up, I couldn't flee and IT gripped my poor hooves and held on. IT also had metal tools that were sharp and noisy. I don't know why, but IT wanted my feet! Our humans have had an odd fascination with our feet since we've been here. Always examining them and picking them out every time they take us out for work. I thought it was just a quirk, and they were gentle enough, so no big deal. The IT, however, wanted to cut our hooves and our humans allowed it! The lady human just gave me treats and used soothing words while this beast thing was nibbling off my feet with ITs tools! I tried to tell her, with my eyes, how much peril I was in, but she failed to understand. When IT let me go, I kept myself composed until she led me back to the paddock and then, to show that I disapproved of it all, I pouted the world's biggest burro pout. Burros and donkeys are champions of pouting. In fact, a burro I knew in Arizona kept up a pout for five solid years!
Later, our humans came back and gave us treats. As if they could buy us off. Ha! As if I would forget all the weirdness of the IT because of a treat. Ha! Although it was one of the really good treats we only get every once in awhile. It had alfalfa in it. And corn. Is that a little oats in there, too? And molasses. I love molasses. You know, the word 'ass' is in molasses for good reason...
Wait, what were we talking about?
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