hand crushed by a mallet

With summer in full swing, the small ass and his rooster companion do not have to endlessly search for warmth. No, the donkey and his faithful (although ornery) feathered friend are in the mines today is for one simple reason; to explore. Oscar’s small hooves plod along, eyes roaming over the broken timbers and small stretches of metal that line either side of them.

As he walks, Nugget sits perched on the ass’s… ass. The sharp talons, usually used to stretch up bugs from the earth, are carefully threaded into the curly hairs of the donkey’s coat. It is a routine the pair have played out again and again, Oscar pulling the pair into the exciting, and often times dangerous, unknown. The rooster no longer complains, he knows that his breath is wasted on the small, adventurous equine.

Nugget looks around, his curious hazel eyes looking for any bugs or even small rodents to feast upon. Oscar walks on, wide, eager eyes scanning the sagging walls and hastily propped up support beams with silent wonder. Suddenly, a large rat skitters across the oblivious ass’s path and the rooster, who had been looking for food, immediately goes flying. Wings beat the air to slow Nugget’s descent as the donkey’s broad head snaps around to see why the rooster has flown off.

Once on the ground, Nugget darts after the retreating tail of the rat, clucking up a storm as he runs. Oscar’s eyes widen as he watches the rooster run full tilt at a very solid wall, wincing as he prepares himself for the thud and dazed bird that will soon follow. However, much to his dismay, Nugget and the rat disappear... into the wall.

Jaw drops as Oscar quickly moves to the dirt wall, eyeing it with great suspicion as he whispers, “Oi Nugget! Where did ya go?” The sound of clucking can be heard on the other side of the wall and the ass leans down to inspect the floor. There he finds a small opening, cloaked in shadow and hidden with darkness. Against his better judgement, the donkey lays down and begins to crawl through said opening.

Muttered curses follow him through the tight squeeze, where he gets stuck once because of his, just a little too fat, butt. With a grunt and many colorful words, Oscar finally makes it through and is deposited into a room of complete darkness. Stilling, the prey animal takes a moment to try and get his bearings, eyes squint against the dark even though it does not help him see anything.

Ears swivel and he hears the clicking of bats using their echolocation to fly. That, along with their beating wings, alert him to the creatures that call the night home. Some small, skittering creature crawls over his splayed legs and Oscar brays out in alarm as he quickly stumbles to his hooves. Huffing loudly, he calls out, “Nugget! Where the hell are ya?” His thick Irish accent laces every word as worry and fear settle into the small donkey’s stomach.


"Oscar Monaghan"