Nigel thought he was a clever boy for organizing his underpants in his top drawer; left-to-right, Monday-to-Friday.
Unfortunately, his mother tended to be a bit careless when putting the laundry away.
He didn’t mean to do it. And he was so sorry that it’d happened.
But after what Tommy McAllister did on that sunny July afternoon, the Little League of Wausebotah, Minnesota would never, ever be the same.
[ ED. NOTE: I know the Canadian Space Agency is hurting for funds, but I’m not so sure Angela should have spent the entire LRT marketing budget on ad placements like this without consulting me first… ]
First, he replaced all of the shrubbery in his yard with a chain-link fence.
Next, he dug an enormous trench around the fence, and disguised it with a thin layer of hay and grass and apple slices.
By then, he was seen walking in and out of his house, constantly mumbling to himself, “equus africanus asinus”.
The neighbors merely laughed at him, and called him “Old Crazy Hank”.
But Hank knew better. He was planning. Preparing.
The Donkeypocalypse was nigh.