Quote:
Originally Posted by Chainsaw Anthropologist
Should have called it "Stains". Then when you called it, logically the plea would have been "Come Stains" from a Red Peters song of the same name. 
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My general health would be in jeopardy as soon as my SO or daughter realized what the kids were saying as they called "come stains" from the fence!
Quote-pyramider...After naming the donkey, there must be a show . . .
There is a show with this little fellow. He loves to back up to the gate to take a shit. This is followed by his daddy trying to shit on top of his shit from the other side of the gate.
Quote-Tara Evans...I have always wanted a donkey, but I would take a cow or a horse.
I sold the cows as they are too destructive close to the house or around vehicles. I have plenty of horses though including a two week old filly. This is the time of year for babies at my place. One more due this week. And an FYI...if size matters, the donkey is smaller in height and weight but has my stallion beat in length and girth!!
Quote-Lust4xxxlife...When I was growing up, my Dad named our dog the same name as our neighbor – Fred – whom he was not fond of. In the summertime, our neighbor and his wife entertained outside by the pool a lot. Naturally, our dog would occasionally bark at the people on the other side of the fence. My dad got a lot of pleasure out of opening the back door of our house and yelling something like the following: "FRED, stop that damn noise or I'll spank your ass like I did last night!!" My dad would smile at the awkward silence in the yard next door. Understand that this was an upscale neighborhood.
But wait... there's more!
The feud between these guys carried on. Fred had a tree installed in his backyard that grew up to extend over our fence. One day, my dad comes home from work and finds that the tree trimmers Fred hired let the trimmings fall into our garden and just left them there. That was it. My Dad digs down about three feet into the ground until he finds a main root from that tree. He cuts it and sticks the end into a bucket of tree poison. Within two weeks, the tree was dead.
My dad is a great guy and I love that he passed on his twisted sense of humor to me.
That's hilarious! If my neighbors were within earshot, I could have lots of fun. I do have a regular habit of spraying herbicides with the wind blowing their direction. They just don't understand that broomweed and thistles aren't good for pasture.
I named my donkey
