Bubba has been down at the General Store shooting off his mouth again. He’s always claiming that I talk to him. They never believe him, which suits me fine. No telling what kind of show they’d put me in, if they knew I was a talking mule. I remember Mr. Ed on TV. I happen to know he didn’t get any bigger feedbag because he could talk.  

One day I was standing by the fence, listening to the crickets, and this old red pick-up drove by. I noticed the big tires and the plastic Jesus hanging from the mirror. I thought I could smell corn so I stared so hard at the red-neck what was driving, that he pulled over to talk to me.

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