A Tale of Great Scraggle

Duke is a donkey’s donkey. He is half blind and half deaf. Forgotten out in Mokuleia someplace. He spent his first twenty years mostly on his own. Which is terrible for donkeys. Wandering around in pastures, up into the jungle. Chewing on whatever he fancied. Mangoes and guava, alfalfa galore. Growing old in a hermit’s paradise. But Duke is not a hermit and never was. On his lonesome, he stood as the picture of health. With thick legs and a sturdy frame, his coat gleams and his hooves sparkle. A beautiful beast wandering half blind and half deaf in search of companionship and adventure.

Fred, is not a man’s man. Shunned by all the men’s men. In search of a quiet meadow to call his own. Fred is a stringbean with a pep in his step. He wears a bandana or straw hat most days, with a worn-out pair of swimming trunks. His shoulders are boney and burnt to a crisp, but with great gusto he has pulled a wagon all the way from Kailua town. Fred is very excited to be way out in Mokuleia. Trotting along, with a wagon full of gear. Pots and jars jangling in the midday sun. He holds quite a pace and is stirring up quite a ruckus in search of a meadow to call his own.

Duke lays in the shade, hiding out from the midday swelter, squinting his good eye and swiveling his clogged ears. Sensing deep in his spectacular Donkey Soul that destiny had arrived. Sucking up a huge breath in his tremendous lungs, Duke calls out for what life has in store. “HEEEHAAWW”

Fred jingles to a stop. Assuming that his last gas station sandwich had become psychedelic in the midday sun.

Then Duke sings out again, “HEEHAWW”

Fred couldn’t believe the curious melody, yet felt the irresistible pull of destiny as he turned his wagon. Jingling into the pasture.