The Donkey Story
Gotta post this up for historys sake. (from my friend karl in all it's glory)
ok jkrew, the definitive donkey story once more...
ok, just over two years ago at the start of september 2002, i took a few weeks to travel around the west coast of ireland, meeting old friends, making new ones. After an interesting and rather odd trad session as i was playing rythym guitar for part of it, i left johnny spoons caravan on Aran Mór (the larger aran island) and decided to get the boat & coach back to Gallimh (galway), and then attempt to get a coach to tralee co. kerry. i'd told my friend Con that i may need a bed and he lived that way.
Before too long I arrived at his house in st. james park and we decided to hit the boozer hard. I was a few pints in when Brendan, Con's best mate showed up. He told me his tale of how he'd left the gardaí (police) in dublin and got reposted to kerry after the birth of his child. He was a nice chap, and we continued drinking, me finding it odd that con's best mate was a garda.
The next thing another mate arrived in, and started laughing with them about something, I asked what it was and Brendan decided to tell me. It turns out that his little brother had just gone back to college the previous week in Tralee RTC and hooked up with a few old mates he hadn't seen since the previous academic year. One of them managed to borrow a car and after pooling their resources they managed to come up with a couple of six packs and a small lump of hash. They decided to drive out towards the coast and the ring of Kerry, which is basically a road on a tall cliff face. At a corner along the coast road they pulled over and hopped over one of those low stone walls you see over the length and breath of that part of the country. There was fuck all in the field that led the 60 yards to the cliff but for some scrub and a donkey.
They headed out towards the edge of the cliff basically looking for somewhere a tad wind guarded to skin up a number. The wind along those cliffs is a force and all of that. So in a kind of incline in the land right at the edge of the cliff-face they come across the oddest thing, a huge rotting lump or part of an oak tree trunk, about 10 foot long and five foot high. They didn't really tax themselves as to what the fuck it was doing there but glad of its shelter they skinned up a number or two and drank some beer.
Brendans brother got a fairly typically stoned idea into his head. He said
" lads, what say we fuck this trunk off the cliff onto the rocks and sea way below there?"
"ahhh sure why not."
so they all grab a bit and strain to pick it up.
"ahhh one, ahh two, ahh three"
they fuck it off the top of the cliff. Next thing they hear an odd noise
"ca, chung, ca chung, ca, chung"
there had been a chain tied to the trunk all the while hidden in the scrub that was now following the trunk down into the sea.
they turned in unison as you would
"heeeee haaaaaw, heeeee haaaaaaw, heeeee haaaaaw"
screamed the donkey as he barellled at them at velocity tied as he was to the chain.
the last thing they saw was his arse as he bulleted off the edge of the cliff, and they sped back to the car.
ok jkrew, the definitive donkey story once more...
ok, just over two years ago at the start of september 2002, i took a few weeks to travel around the west coast of ireland, meeting old friends, making new ones. After an interesting and rather odd trad session as i was playing rythym guitar for part of it, i left johnny spoons caravan on Aran Mór (the larger aran island) and decided to get the boat & coach back to Gallimh (galway), and then attempt to get a coach to tralee co. kerry. i'd told my friend Con that i may need a bed and he lived that way.
Before too long I arrived at his house in st. james park and we decided to hit the boozer hard. I was a few pints in when Brendan, Con's best mate showed up. He told me his tale of how he'd left the gardaí (police) in dublin and got reposted to kerry after the birth of his child. He was a nice chap, and we continued drinking, me finding it odd that con's best mate was a garda.
The next thing another mate arrived in, and started laughing with them about something, I asked what it was and Brendan decided to tell me. It turns out that his little brother had just gone back to college the previous week in Tralee RTC and hooked up with a few old mates he hadn't seen since the previous academic year. One of them managed to borrow a car and after pooling their resources they managed to come up with a couple of six packs and a small lump of hash. They decided to drive out towards the coast and the ring of Kerry, which is basically a road on a tall cliff face. At a corner along the coast road they pulled over and hopped over one of those low stone walls you see over the length and breath of that part of the country. There was fuck all in the field that led the 60 yards to the cliff but for some scrub and a donkey.
They headed out towards the edge of the cliff basically looking for somewhere a tad wind guarded to skin up a number. The wind along those cliffs is a force and all of that. So in a kind of incline in the land right at the edge of the cliff-face they come across the oddest thing, a huge rotting lump or part of an oak tree trunk, about 10 foot long and five foot high. They didn't really tax themselves as to what the fuck it was doing there but glad of its shelter they skinned up a number or two and drank some beer.
Brendans brother got a fairly typically stoned idea into his head. He said
" lads, what say we fuck this trunk off the cliff onto the rocks and sea way below there?"
"ahhh sure why not."
so they all grab a bit and strain to pick it up.
"ahhh one, ahh two, ahh three"
they fuck it off the top of the cliff. Next thing they hear an odd noise
"ca, chung, ca chung, ca, chung"
there had been a chain tied to the trunk all the while hidden in the scrub that was now following the trunk down into the sea.
they turned in unison as you would
"heeeee haaaaaw, heeeee haaaaaaw, heeeee haaaaaw"
screamed the donkey as he barellled at them at velocity tied as he was to the chain.
the last thing they saw was his arse as he bulleted off the edge of the cliff, and they sped back to the car.
- Friday, October 22, 2004 at 1:31 PM
- Posted by JKREW
- 0 Comments
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