Donkey Time
Not time to panic
I’m buying a donkey. People everywhere are panicking. The food is flying off the shelves. And I? I’m getting a donkey. I have my reasons. Among them is the plain and simple need for a companion who believes in the power of walking one place to the next. But that’s not all.
It’s quite simple really. What happens when we can’t fuel our powerboat? Do they expect us to learn how to sail? What kind of Easter holiday would that be then?
But I’m happy people aren’t really panicking. Sure, there’s food flying off the shelves at about fly in rate. No. If it was real panic there’d be a lineup out the door of the local bicycle shop. People just leaving their cars, out of juice, coasting to a standstill. Sometimes not even waiting for it to stop. Just walking off. Abandoning their old life, like a fallen scab, going straight and joining the queue at the bike shop. But no - we have relative calm.
But the relative calm is relatively relative. So far people in the street are happy to complain. The ones that come out by day. But there are others. It’s for them I need the donkey.
I am without doubt referring to the ancient practice of bowser worship. There are those who pull up to the bowser, they take the nozzle, and dispense the sacred unburnt nectar of freedom. And now people are pensive, their outlook; troubled. What happens when we worship the bowser and the good fortune fails to flow? Have we not paid our tributes faithfully? Have we fallen from favour?
She is one of those that don’t come out in the day. You might say she’s a soothsayer. A soothsayer of the bowser. She goes by the name of Rama Lama Ding Dong. Rama for short. At midnight, people gather, from near and far, young and old, to hear her latest reading of the bowser. So strange are her ways: she bows before the bowser, caresses it, dances for it, and then, when she has honoured it sufficiently, she divulges to all present, just what the bowser has revealed to her.
She and she alone can keep this sacred flow. It doesn’t matter how she does it. Just that she does it. And whatever mystic forces she summons, whatever strange performances - it works. And people ask how much? What sum are we willing to pay? You wouldn’t believe it dear reader. For her time; for her trouble, she doesn’t ask even a cent. No. But she does accept donations. She explains, to keep the favour of the bowser, she must keep up certain sacrifices. For that, she needs donations; donations that can take no other form. Donations therefore can only be in bunnies. Floppy or non-floppy eared, it doesn’t matter, but the cuter the better. No hares. Why bunnies? Who knows.
Bunnies are banned in the state of Queensland. Now bunny trafficking has blown out of proportion. They’re now fetching a premium on the bunny black market.
So now you see clearly why I need a donkey. Not only will a donkey will be a splendid companion, but I might rescue far more bunnies. Meanwhile, what am I to do with all these bunnies hopping about the place? I need to learn how to make them disappear. They need to disappear from my bedroom and be reborn somewhere where they can have a new life.
Anyone out there with a spare donkey?