The cab driver is tipped $500. bucks plus the $790. to drive me home. I don't care, it wasn't my money anyway. A shower and the fresh cotton sheets feel great. I drift off to sleep with the terror of Pleasure Island and the Curse of Donkeydom behind me.
The alarm rings at 6:30a.m. and even with an hour it's a chase to get ready, shave, and eat a quick bowl of Oatmeal. Down stairs to the garage and jump into my 1981 Lincon Mark vi. I'm out of the driveway and halfway to work before the thought of my new GMC truck setting in the Pleasure Island parking lot.
Everybody is there except Jason Miller the semi-retired marketing rep that I found out had also gone to the Park that same fated day. I asked the boss about him and wondered. It was at lunch when sitting with a group of Marketing people his name came up in conversation. Janice pointed out a Company golf outing picture and said he was in the front row far right.
As I was done with lunch my path went by the photo and as I looked down the front row far right the horror of the weekend came to bare. There he was, the gray haired man which the massage women had under their spell and when I escaped the Park he was in harness as a black Donkey hitched to the red velvet coach.
I stood there gapping at his photo and thinking of the strained look he cast my way as he was whipped into action, trotting off with seven other unlucky Donkeys.
My mind was filled with such terror for the man. He'd never return and after a few days as the Donkey his mental self would degress to that of the beast he was to remain. At last I could stand it no more and told the boss I was feeling ill and going home early.
I drove straight home and as my huge car turned into the driveway, there was my new GMC. A paper on the windshield told of it's being towed home and to send a check for $1,000. fee. As I started for the back door of the house my eye caught a box setting on the passengerside seat. The truck was unlocked and reaching in could barely lift the box due to the weight.
At last in the house I sat down and wrote the tow fee check and put it in an envelope for the morning mail. Slapping a frozen dinner in the oven it was time to check over the box.
A letter was fixed to the box top and this I opened first.
PLEASURE ISLAND AMUSEMENT PARK
"Erotic Fantasy Division"
Sir,
It has come to our attention that your adventure in the park was not
fulfilled. We try to make our special guests comfortable as possible for the fullest thrill in their personal fantasy. During your visit to one of our Fantasy Massage Parlors these item were left unattended.
Enclosed is your wallet, drivers license, money ($390.00), social security card, credit cards, and a photo of your close friend Jason Miller. A pair of pants, shirt, underwear, socks, shoes, sweater-vest, and some assorted items which we are sure might fit someone your size. In the second layer is a personal gift from Jason which he would love for you to have and enjoy.
If we may be a guide to some future fantasy, or something we left by mistake please give us a call, Dail 999.
Sincerely,
Ralphieon D. Flycatcher
I opened the cover of that big box and inside were my clothes. Everything was folded nice and neat, cleaned and looking just fine. I stopped and starred at the sight of what was just below the clothes. There, a bunch of black leather straps. Silver buckles and what I was sure must be a silver bit for a donkey bridle, if I were pulling the coach with Jason Miller.
The harness, bridle, bit and even a belly belt, were made for a full grown donkey simular to Jason. Why would they send this junk to me since I wasn't planning to return for round two.
A plastic bag sealed with a twist tie held Jason's surprise for me. I wondered how a Donkey stud would be able to send home a gift, let alone to me a co-worker.
Removing the twist tie was easy and the bag sprung open. My two arms dug under it as to lift it from the deep box. As the open bag touched my nose the horrid stench of that donkey barn was realized in my mind. In a stupid moment I thought to give it a toss out the back door.
As I tried to sling throw the bag it's bottom ripped like tissue paper. The insides poured down my chest and under my shirt. A fine dust seeped into the pants and down the legs to build up inside my shoes.
The dust settles and I peer into the box to see a message written on a piece of paper. Taped into the bottom it read, My dear co-worker it was insulting of you to leave me here alone. I and the nice massage tech are pulling our weight for the coach service daily. The contents of this bag represents fifteen pounds of Pleasure Island soil, four pounds of my dried manure, and one pound of P.I.A.P. farm reformation flux powder.
P.S. besure the harness fits well before dialing 999.
My body was on fire, skin itched, eyes burned, ribs ached, and face hurt like hell. "Poisened!" I knew it as the strange pains warned of impending changes. As hands reached to pick up the black harness it was apparent that it would soon fit.