The Parched Donkey

By Ecklebob Chiselfritz

The donkey named GOP was lost and had been for quite sometime. He had no idea where he was. At first he thought it might be Hell because of the searing heat of the Sun, but the freezing cold of the nights told him this could not be. And then the thought came upon him that he was in a desert. It didn't matter to GOP if he was in Heaven, Hell or a desert because he was very hungry and extremely dehydrated. It had been many days since he had so much as a clump of hay or a drink of water.

So he wandered aimlessly through the desert. Many more days passed and GOP could barely lumber forward anymore. His tongue was bloated and his throat was raw from heat, cold and no water. His body began to sway and his knees buckled in collapse. He was dying. He lay on his side and his body prepared to give up the ghost. He blinked his eyes slowly and each time there was a longer gap between blinks. He made one last effort to open his eyes and...what is that he sees? Water. He sees water. Glorious, wonderful water.

Not a puddle. Not an oasis. A big body of water!

GOP knew where he was now. Lake Mitt Romney. With a mighty effort GOP raised himself from the ground and slowly moved toward the lake. With indescribable joy he lowered his head to the water and tasted...sand.

It was a mirage. GOP had no tears to cry since he was as parched as his imgained Lake Mitt Romney. He weakly brayed once then laid down and died.