Danged Mule

Wham! Out the barn door Nate flew. Good thing the door was open or he’d have really been hurt. Fact is, he was really hurt. He was tumbling in the dirt and the hay and the mud. His butt hurt like the dickens. His pride hurt too. That danged mule! Kicked him again! Nate was staring to get just a little tired of it. He had just about had it with that danged mule.

As he lay there in the yard, he decided that enough was enough. He was going to shoot that danged mule. He was going to shoot it twice, to be certain. Then he thought about the plowing. Shoot the mule and how to plow? He couldn’t pull the plow and guide it at the same time. Nate thought that, maybe, he could harness the little woman and she could- nah, she’d never go along with it. Can’t shoot the mule.

Nate then decided to whack the mule to show who was boss around the farm. The mule knew, and it wasn’t Nate. He liked the little, funny looking farmer. She fed him fruit. Nate went into the barn and casually went over to the other side and tinkered around with some things to snooker the mule into thinking he was being ignored. Then Nate sneaked up on the mule. He jumped into the stall right in front of the mule. “Gotcha!” The mule mule tried to turn his butt to Nate to get a shot at him but Nate turned with him. Nate whacked that mule hard enough to stop a mule dead in his tracks. The mule didn’t even blink. He looked at Nate Oh, oh. The mule brought his head up catching Nate under the jaw. Nate screamed and was knocked outside. He was yelling and bleeding. He spit out a mouthful of blood and teeth. He counted three teeth on the ground. Shoot! Nine left. Going to have to get a bridge pretty soon or gum his food like Daddy.

Nate had to do something about this. The other animals were starting to get ideas. The dog growled at him today. Now, the dog he could shoot. He served no real purpose. All he did was eat, sleep, lift his leg, and be babied by mommy. Oh, babied by mommy. Can’t shoot the dog.

The hog was eyeing him up too. The hog was dimly aware that it didn’t matter what he did. He was going to be Easter dinner any way you cut it. All the other hogs disappeared one at a time. His turn was coming. Hogs are very fatalistic. Sort of dumb too. Guess that’s the price you pay to be the other white meat.

Well, he could shoot the hog. Mommy didn’t baby him and the hog could be eaten. Of course, the hog was going to be eaten no matter what.

Violence didn’t work, except for a mule. It didn’t work on a mule, either. The mule knew it but Nate didn’t. Farmer all his life and didn’t know that? Nate decided to go another route. Every morning he gave the mule dried apples and stuff. He rubbed that danged mule behind his ears. He rubbed it down at night. Nate didn’t treat his wife that nicely, especially at night. The mule was purring like a kitten. No kicking. No biting. No refusing to go where Nate wanted him to go. He was being a real sweetheart. It worked!

Sure it did. The mule was going to act the way Nate wanted instead of the way the mule wanted. All because of some apples and rubbing. Sure, and the snake won’t bite you after you save his life. Sure, and the moon is made of cheese. Sure, and Nate was just dumb enough to believe that. That’s when the mule had him where he wanted him. Clueless.

The dog thought it was a neat trick. He’d do it too except he got all the treats and rubbing he wanted from mommy. A little more than he wanted, truth be told. Mommy sometimes got on his nerves. She could get really bitchy at times. She scared him a bit. Maybe he should growl at her. Oh, that was a bad thought.

Back to the mule. Somewhere in his dim thinking process he came to a decision. Apples or not, rubdowns or not, Nate was getting kicked. The mule enjoyed it too much. Nate was an easy target now that he was stupid enough to think the mule was benevolent and tame. The mule figured it was time to change that.

The mule thought he’d wait and get one more snack first. After that, it would be time to find out who controlled who (or is it whom?). Then, wham! He'd kick old Nate so hard his teeth would rattle. What teeth he had left. The mule almost laughed out loud at that. He would have if mules could laugh, which they can’t, so he brayed instead.

Nate heard the braying. Why would the mule be braying? It wasn’t quite time for the apples or the rubba-dub-dubba behind the ears. Well, there’s no accounting for mule thinking. First, finish breakfast. Darn, it was getting hard to eat the ham with what few teeth he had left.

Nate gathered himself up and gathered some dried apples up. He went to the barn. The mule was waiting. Ned fed him the apples. He rubbed his ears. He put the harness on him. He rubbed him some more. He smiled to himself. The mule was just as stupid as his reputation. This here mule was not about to give up his apples for a kick. Ha, ha.

Wham! That danged mule Kicked Nate through the side of the barn. Nate didn’t like it much but as they say, mules don’t have rules.

The mule might not be stubborn. It might be consodering its options.

The only thing worse than trying to get a mule to pull a plow is trying to get a mule to let you ride.

You got to have smelt a lot of mule manure before you can sing like a hillbilly. Hank Williams

My grandfather and my father had wheat ranches, so we had quite a few trucks around and a lot of mules. Talk about horsepower - we had mule power. Adam West

I used to go to the stables and fool with the mules. My mother lived in constant fear that I might be brought home with a hoof print on my stomach. Rudolph Valentino