They came for him every morning before sunrise, fastening the hateful harness around his neck. The leather restraint had begun to chafe his neck after hour upon hour of pulling the plow, which seemed heavier with each passing day.
"Oh my god," Jared brayed. "I'm not doing it today!"
His braying got him nothing. The other donkeys knew the routine. Mostly in silence, they ignored the braying of one of their own as they ate and drank from the troughs.
Awkwardly, Jared got his donkey body on its knees. "I'll refuse to budge," he thought.
The old farmer looked sternly toward the stubborn donkey, but one of the grandsons laughed and revealed a big, orange carrot. The carrot looked more like a murky red to poor Jared, but his nostrils flared as he sniffed the treat. The young man wafted the carrot near the donkey's snout.
"No!" Jared brayed as the donkey brain truly in charge of the new body responded to the smell of the carrot, galumphing back onto all four hooves.
The young man gave the carrot to the donkey and turned with a prideful look toward the old farmer. He didn't begrudge the animal this carrot, but he didn't intend to spoil a stupid beast by having to bribe it to its feet every morning.
As the donkey crunched the carrot slowly between its blocky teeth, the young man led Jared toward the field for another day of plowing.
"No!" Jared brayed. "No!"
He didn't want to go. The flying, biting insects appeared in hellish swarms as soon as the rising sun chased off the morning chill. The man guiding Jared's plow has a canister of bug spray. He also had hands to swat at the persistent insects.
"It's not fair!" Jared brayed.
The donkey he had become brayed with frustration when a particularly big horsefly with mandibles as sharp as a knife sliced through Jared's hide. "Eee-Haw! Eee-Haw!" He flicked his tail, which brought only fleeting seconds of relief before the insects buzzed around him again. They crawled in his upright, hairy ears, around the edges of his drooping eyes, and over his dark black balls.
The waves of biting insects tired him almost as much as the grueling labor. Jared thought of baseball to try to distract himself from his new harsh reality, but only reminded himself that he could never play his beloved sport again.
The day ended and Jared and his fellow donkeys returned to the barn for the daily fare of straw and water. As he joylessly chewed the straw, he wished for something that could at least provide him a diversion.