Jackass

He stared at it - right into it's eyes, deep into it's soul - if it even had a soul. Everyday it would do this to him. He'd find it at the same time, in the same part of the pasture, staring back at him, right into his eyes, deep into his soul. It was a bonafide fact that animals could see someone's soul and he knew the burro was looking at his, mocking him with it's blank look.

He hated that damn thing. How it walked. How it smiled at him with its stupid, teeth-missing grin - its yellowish teeth glinting in the sun at him. It knew how much it hated him. How it was the bane of his existence.

To think, he was reduced to this, to chancing a donkey around his father's farm each and everyday. Could his father have built a more secure enclosure by now? Absolutely - but he swore he got some sort of sick pleasure from watching his son struggle with the donkey every afternoon.

Well, it wasn't going to happen today. He stormed up to the beast and struck his hand out, reaching for its collar. In a swift motion, the donkey lowered its head and bite his wrist. Pulling away quickly, the boy stared in disbelief. Never before had it been so defiant. While he was still in his shock from the bite, the donkey turned away and continued up the hill into the fog. Charging after it, the boy soon caught up to it, only to be kicked in the thigh, sending him falling back into a pile of mud.

He choked back tears. His wrist was bleeding and his thigh was throbbing.

Today, he was going to tame the burro - show it who was boss.

Standing tall, the boy walked back into the house - determined not to be beaten. He just need to grab a few things to fix this.

As he walked away, the donkey stared - pleased with the display it had just put on. It knew the boy could do nothing to command it. Just like every other day, it would do what it wanted.

A short time later, the boy returned to the field, now ready for the challenge. Standing about thirty feet away, he held out his hand and waited. The donkey just stared back - peace wasn't going to work. Sighing, the boy reached into his back pocket, smiling, and pulled out a handful of carrots. The burro's ears perked up.

As it took a few steps closer, the boy remained patient - not wanting to strike too early and lose his only opportunity.

He was not at all ready for the force of the shotgun as it went off - pounding his shoulder.

It certainly wasn't the cleanest shot, but the donkey wasn't going to be running away anymore.