The loss of his voice produced a full meltdown that, unfortunately, drew a wider audience than the newly-minted donkey's younger sibling.
Mr. Shunkel, the next door neighbor, had been the bane of Jared's life most of his boyhood from the first time Jared had picked up a baseball bat and struck a baseball that careened through Shunkel's den window. The cantankerous old coot lived alone and lived for little more than to stir up trouble.
Hearing an odd braying noise and glancing out the window where he saw the youngest Webster boy standing in the backyard with a donkey was enough to have the old man clutching his phone and speed-dialing 911.
The responder cringed at the young of an all-too-familiar complaining voice, but this took the cake.
"Your neighbor has a what in his yard?" The responser requested for clarity.
Old Shunkel, at higher volume and with growing impatience, repeated the story and added a disgusted grunt when he witnessed the animal dropping a fresh load of manure right next to where the fence separated his property from the Websters.
"Are you going to come and remove this disgusting animal or not?" The old man wrinkled his nose as if he could smell the donkey's manure.
"Of course, sir," the responder said. "Your neighborhood is definitely not zoned for large livestock."
Meanwhile, Kevin, not as fortunate as Shunkel, had to endure the horrendous smell from the fresh droppings.
"Oh, gross," Kevin groaned. "God, Jared, did you have to do that?"
Jared, more miserable at the discovery that he didn't really have any control over such functions, only brayed louder as if that might somehow convey his message any more clearly to Kevin.
Kevin had still made no progress in calming his brother-turned-donkey when two city trucks, one hauling a animal trailer, pulled into the driveway. Five city employees, including two from animal welfare, emerged from the truck.
At the gate, one man smiled at Kevin. "Son, is the your animal?"
Both Kevin and Jared had been shocked into momentary silence.
"No, he's not mine," Kevin started, only to have his brother start braying again. "Well, I mean, yes, he is, but..."
Kevin's attempt to explain got drowned out by Jared's brays.
"You can't keep a big animal like that as a pet," the man said.
"Oh, he's not a pet," Kevin began.
"Can we see your parents?" The man asked.
"They're not home," Kevin said.
The man frowned at that news.
"Well, you have them..."
He stopped. The other men had started laughing.
Still braying, the donkey in the yard had begun to produce prodigious amount of an intensely rank, bright yellow urine, spraying the grass with the liquid pouring out of its large black cock.
Kevin groaned from sheer embarrassment.
The man didn't look pleased, either.
"Just get that animal loaded up," the man ordered as the spout finally seemed to run out from the urinating donkey.
"You can't..." Kevin began a protest.
"You have your parents call me," the man said and handed Kevin a card.
"But you don't..."
Jared brayed from the electric shock of a well-placed cattle prod.
"Don't hurt him!" Kevin shouted.
"Relax, kid, it's just some minor shocks to make him cooperate."
Jared brayed again and was forced to stumble toward the waiting animal trailer. Two of the men had extended a ramp to allow easy access.
Jared tried to run when outside the fenced yard, but the prods zapped whenever he made a move to deviate from the path the men intended. One careless zap gave more than a tickle to his long, smelly cock that remained in plain view.
Once inside the trailer, someone slammed the gate.
The men all loaded back into the vehicles.
Kevin watched as Jared, who had pushed his snout through some metal bars, brayed as he was transported away.
From the same window that had been broken out by an errant baseball many years ago, Mr. Shunkel watched, too, glad to see that his city tax dollars were not going completely to waste. He had admired the efficiency of the response team sent out to deal with the awful jackass.