Free Turds in the Punch Bowl (A Story of No Ordinary Friendship) by Jen Ashton Page B

put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me up. “What the hell are you doing? You went the wrong way.”
    “We have to get out of here!” I told him.
    “Calm down. Most of the burros are up further. They’re not as close as they sound. You’re fine. They don’t eat people anyway. You’re so dramatic.”
    He was right. Donkeys don’t eat people, especially women, and I can be pretty dramatic when I want to be. I have never been afraid of donkeys or horses, cows or even tigers. I volunteer at exotic animal rescues and even donate regularly to a wolf sanctuary. I have been around animals my whole life and have never met one I didn’t like. I pet them, feed them and play with them, even the big cats. So why was I so scared? The truth is you just never know how you’re going to react when frightened. Had the sun been out when the donkey yelled at me the way he did, I probably would have pet him and given him a name. I would’ve even considered riding him back to the car and taking him home. But that’s not the way it happened. The pitch black night played tricks on my common sense and the fear of the unknown had me certain I was being attacked by flesh-eating jackasses. In hindsight, I was the only jackass in the desert that evening, and I’m not proud to say it.
    “Come on, Monkey. The highway is this way,” Joe said as he led me away from the beasts of the night.
    “There’s more lights now,” I exclaimed as we looked off in the distance.
    Some friends had joined the patrol car. It looked like there were three now. We used them as our lighthouse in the sea of darkness and headed straight toward them. It was another hour before we even got close. And unfortunately as we did, we noticed the lights belonged to two patrol cars and a tow truck. And, if we strained our eyes far enough, we could see Joe’s car hoisted up and chained to the back of it. We were officially fucked.
    I heard a big thud behind me.
    “Well,” Joe perked up, “if we’re stuck out here all night, I suggest we take a few of those photos we came here for.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yep. Seriously. How much worse could it get? Now, take off your shoes and pose.”
    Joe was decent at taking charge in any situation. I admire him for that. Though his brilliance often put us in situations that required more of his brilliance to get us out of, he always did a fairly good job of making the best of things. This moment was no different. I took off my sneakers and felt around for a Joshua tree. I knew there were plenty. I had eaten a few when I ran from the donkey.
    I stood as close as I could to the nearest tree and Joe snapped a picture. The flash was blinding.
    “Okay, that’s it. Let’s go!” he said as he put his camera in its case and snapped it closed.
    “That’s it?” I was confused.
    “Yep. There’s no waterfall behind you, but it will do.”
    I put my shoes back on and we hiked the rest of the way to the road without saying a word. I think we were both bummed that we hadn’t found the waterfall. We didn’t have to walk along the shoulder for long before we were picked up by highway patrol. The officer gave us a ride home, apologized for calling in our car and gave us a lecture about the safeties of hiking in the desert.

FINGER-BANGING JANE

    Joe isn’t the smoothest pickup artist, so how he ended up finger-banging our favorite waitress in the back of the restaurant is beyond me. I wish I could tell you he got laid this time, but unfortunately this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Just when he thought he was in like Flynn, the ghost of a husband’s past came creeping up Jane’s legs and closed them for business. Poor Joe. He ended up with blue balls and Finger-bangin’ Jane was never heard from again. It’s never a dull day trying to wet Joe’s willy.
    It all started on a Tuesday night. Joe was hungry and I was tired. He invited me to join him for dinner at the restaurant next door, a place we frequented for lunch and the