The day had progressed steadily upon the farm. It was one of many in the Italian countryside. Nothing too spectacular, but it had enough to sustain it. Within the barn, a creature slept, giving off steady snores as his chest rose and sank. Before long he snapped awake with a snort. Smacking his lips he stretched his legs and steadily rose, wincing and groaning slightly as he felt a pain in his hip.
Said creature in question was a donkey, one by the name of "Old Jack". Jack was not his birth name, however, being a name given to him when he was purchased. The "Old" part was tacked on as he advanced in age. It had been many years since he first came to this farm. When he first arrived he fought as hard as he could, proving to be a difficult ass to control. But his master, the farmer of the farm steadily broke him in. the work was hard and often brutal, but he was rewarded for his work. At least he figured he was luckier than most of his fellow donkeys.
He recalled that day. There were several of them shipped off that day. Some going off to farms like him, while others to circuses or salt mines, or other places of the like. Once again, he was one of the luckier ones.
As Jack came to his senses, he quickly snapped to attention. Both because he was worried his master would not approve his slacking off, even if it was a quick break, but another for the little addition that was missing.
"Kid?" He called, his voice aged and devoid of his former youth.
No answer came.
"Kid?"
He steadily walked again, feeling another small wince, causing him to curse under his breath.
"Kid? Where are ya?" He called again.
His steps soon grew into progressive progress as his slumber fully shook off. He exited the barn and rounded a corner, and it was here he heard a faint shuffling. Just around the corner, he spied a small brown shape. What was most peculiar was the shape was strutting around, head held high. Jack immediately knew who it was.
"Kid?"
The figure nearly jumped, twirling around till it was facing the old donkey. It was a very young donkey, one that held a cigar in its mouth. The minute Jack saw that rolled piece of tobacco in the child's mouth, he practically exploded.
"Kid! Take that thing out of your mouth!" Jack shouted.
Before the child could act, Jack slapped the cigar out of their mouth.
"Ow! Hey Gramps! What was that for!?" The child cried its voice signifying it as a female.
"For being stupid! No granddaughter of mine is going to make a jackass of herself!" Jack shouted furiously.
"We're already jackasses Gramps! Besides it wasn't even lit!" The child protested.
"That doesn't matter! Where did you even get it anyway?" Jack asked.
The child struck an indignant, almost proud pose, "The farmer keeps a hidden stash. His wife doesn't like the smell so he keeps em hidden," Said Jack's granddaughter.
"Well, you better forget where ya found em! And if I catch you with another one in your mouth you're really going to get it ya hear!"
The granddaughter gave a pout of protest, but quickly came into line the minute Jack scowled at her. Gesturing his granddaughter to follow, the child did so, but the pout never faded.
"Why are you always on my case Gramps?" She asked, anger still evident in her voice.
"It's for your own good girl," Jack stated, "Trust me, nothing good can come of making a fool of yourself!" Jack heard his granddaughter snort, which prompted a small laugh from him "Ya know? When I was a bit older than you, I thought I knew everything there was to know? Did whatever I wanted, never listened to the law or whatever my Ma told me, and you know what? I paid for it!"
"Yeah yeah, I heard all this already Gramps."
Indeed Jack had recalled the many times he had recited this tale. Of course, he left out some details here and there, but the basic rundown is he was naughty and paid for it.
Feeling his anger subside, Jack let out a sigh, staring at his granddaughter with pleading eyes, "Look kid, I know I'm being harsh on you, but I just don't want you to make the same mistakes I made okay?"
His granddaughter's protesting look faded and it soon became one of understanding, "I know Gramps."
Accepting the answer, Jack leaned down and nuzzled the child, "I love ya kid, don't forget that."
"Love you too Gramps," She answered.
"Now hurry along, the farmer probably has some chores ready for us," Jack reminded.
"If I must," The child sighed.
As his granddaughter trotted off Jack couldn't help but chuckle at her youth. In some ways he envied it, recalling his own he supposed. Before he went off to join her, he took another glance at the discarded cigar. He smacked his lips once more as once long ago, he recalled the very taste of the smoke he had once inhaled in his youth.
As said before, Jack was the name given to him when he was first purchased. And as stated it had been one wild night of reckless abandon that had set him on this path.
He recalled that night well. Such fun he had that night, eating whatever he wanted, drinking beer, smoking cigars, and destroying and having fun as much as his little heart could take. He supposed he had been too intoxicated to notice the transformation taking place at first. But he recalled the panic he felt the minute his hands turned into hooves, fur coating his skin, and ears and a tail sprouting like flowers.
Once he had fully changed, he had panicked. It wasn't long before those figures in black took him, stripping him of his clothes and shoving him in a crate. He recalled with vivid horror as he heard the cries of other donkeys, one who could still talk crying out for their mother and fathers. Sometimes he wondered about them. Had they fully lost their voices by now? Or were they still stuck there, doomed to forever talk but stuck in a non-human state?
It wasn't long before the farmer bought him, and that's when his life of labor began. But eventually, the farmer gave him a gift, at least that's how he viewed it, perhaps a reward for his hard work? Jack was presented with a female and needless to say Jack found himself fancying her. He wasn't sure if he honestly was attracted to her, or if he had finally accepted his fate, but they lay together and soon she gave birth to a daughter. But accidents and time happen and now his wife or mate was gone, along with his daughter. All that was left was his granddaughter.
Jack could see many shades of himself in her, and not just in personality, but in the small tuft of orange hair or fur that curled from her head. That bit was surprising for as far as he could tell, any physical signs of his former life were washed away with the transformation. Whichever the case, Jack moved forward to join his granddaughter.
Though the night on the island had cost him any chance of a normal life as a boy, there was still some small light provided from the small candle, the last bit of blood he had on this farm.
Thus was the life of a jackamule, one who wished he could have seen his mother one last time.
A/N: The Pleasure Island scene was always a memorable scene as the boys were never saved. You can pretty much guess who this donkey used to be. Subtly is not one of my strong suits, but I tried.