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The Donkey Ate My Husband’s Wedding Ring. Are We Doomed?
Did that really just happen?
“I have something to tell you,” said Jérôme. We were visiting friends in Najac, a small hilltop village in Southern France.
“What?” I asked.
He held my hands, looked at me, and said, “The donkey ate my wedding ring.”
“Huh?” I didn’t get the metaphor. He’s pranking me again.
“The donkey ate my wedding ring,” he repeated.
He held up his hands, fingers spread, and true enough, the ring was gone.
It was one of those moments when you’re so confused you don’t know how to react. I mean, you don’t reply to “The dog ate my homework,” do you?
My neurons fired, fried, and re-fired with the perfect response:
I burst into tears.
“What?! How could you do that to us?”
“I was feeding the donkeys and the ring was loose and — ”
“Is it bad luck?” I sobbed. “And how did that happen exactly?”
“One of the donkeys ate it. But they (our friends) will help me find it.”
“How? You’ll sort through sh*t? There are five donkeys! It’ll take ages to poop that out…”
