In a township of Tennessee, the title for which I don’t care to remember, there recently dwelt a chap who always had a walking stick in the barn shed, a skinny thoroughbred, and a mountain cur for treeing. A bucket more of timothy than alfalfa, dried grass hay most evenings, pulled weeds on Saturdays, grass trimmings on Fridays, and a scoop or so of Purina on Sundays, took up seventy-five percent of his living allowance. The remainder of his finances he spent on a turnout rug of 1200 denier and a leather halter to match for weekends, while on regular days he dealt with nylon and 600 denier. He had in his pasture a manservant under forty, a maidservant not quite thirty, and a child for the house and grocery store who handled the carrot and cookie procurement. This sir of ours neared five years of age; he was a tough sort with a thin frame who woke early each day and delighted in outdoor activity. I’ve heard told that his last name was Asno, or Asinus (for here all the writers chronicling his life disagree), although from best guesses it seems obvious that he was called Ass. This really doesn’t matter for our story, though; it shall be suitable to not deviate far from fact as I recount it.
You surely are aware, then that the so-called chap whenever he was not at work (which was pretty much all the time) took up studying film and tales of bravery and honor with such passion that he completely ignored physical activity, particularly overseeing his pasture, and so far did his obsession go that he bartered away his grain and hay in trade for more stories of bravery to study, and he acquired as much as he could. His favorite of these were of the famous Ya’foor, for his theological adventures were like gems to him, specifically when he read across ideas like “And when the word is fulfilled concerning them, We shall bring forth a beast of the earth to speak unto them because mankind had not faith in Our revelations.” Descriptions like this drove the poor chap crazy and barred him from slumber as he fought to interpret them.