A Wrinkle in Chrome
The donkey-induced damage to my Fiatt.
It was a dark and stormy night.
I was returning home from a deacon’s meeting, where we discussed the exciting prospects of our congregation and made specific plans for the future. A couple items of concern were brought up, and these were weighing heavily on my brain as I navigated the dark stretch of road between Paço do Lumiar and Araçagi.
Approaching headlights caused me to squint into the darkness. The evening’s rains had caused sand to drift across the road, much like snow drifts, except not as “snowy”.
The car passed and my eyes readjusted to the darkness, and there in front of me were three donkeys. Two of them lived to tell of their close encounter with a red Fiatt. The other–whose nose was extended almost to the middle of the road–went to that great grazing land in the sky, where the streets are paved with carrots, and where there are no silly wagons full of bricks to haul back and forth.
The red Fiatt–heceforth and forever more to be known as Donkeyslayer–is in stable condition, having suffered superficial damage.
Moral of the story: when donkeys stick their noses where they shouldn’t, the results can be catastrophic…for the donkeys.
