August 06, 2005

At eight o’clock this morning, just as we were heading home from the market, they brought out the animals. Donkeys. Goats. Sheep. Even a llama that did nothing but roll in the dust.

The three of us went up to the fence to get a better look. The animals had strange, diagonal eyes and muzzled their way near the fence to be fed and petted. Little kids bought animal feed for a dollar to feed the goats.

We took out our cameras and took pictures. Creepy, diagonal eyes watched our every move. The donkey in particular seemed suspicious. I like donkeys, and I got closer to him so I could touch him. That’s when it all went to shit.

He started crying, neighing, making a horrible, horrible sound. We were afraid and had to plug our ears. It wouldn’t stop screaming, and its lips looked like those of an old woman when she takes out her dentures.

The little kids were afraid and pulled back from the fence. I thought I broke the donkey.

After a few more seconds of violent neighing (the sound was overwhelming), it sneezed a big ball of phlegm right onto Opal’s shirt.

Everybody laughed, but Opal’s face was as red as mine.

“The jerk!” she said later, as we were heading to the car. “I never heard any animal make such painful noise before sneazing.”