Space Donkey

Here is an essay about a bloodsoaked Space Donkey. Everyone, please dance while I read it to you. (And I mean everyone: even all you people who are so well-to-do that you think you don’t need to care about classic literature.)

I ride the Space Donkey to the white star of the Milky Way galaxy. As it is written: “Me donkey fast; me donkey slow.” — Fear not, just order wine with your dinner, for Space Donkey is standing at our side. 

Now I’m back in the saddle for another nice adventure. Buck up, I’m going to press your haunches with my spurs and whisper “Gyah.” Is it possible for the gravity to be negative and infinite?—cuz that’s what it feels like. We’re now kicking our rear hooves into the Space Corn Silo Tower. I’m retrieving my megaphone from the saddlebag, preparing to voice the word that shall melt this dimension down.