The Real Thing

A little story for you, some day in the future

OK, I lied.

The Donkey Truck doesn’t have a spa in it.

No water beds, no “majiklol lubs in it.”

But she’ll rub a tired traveler’s feet, and hopes he’ll stay for some soup

and Story time.

Nope. No majick.

It’s crunch time. There no majiklol lubs. The lubs are REAL, and they

are LOVE, with a capitol L. Majiklol lubs is just a term my mind

conjures up to help the sad times a little more bearable, and help you,

dear reader, see how wonderful plain ol’ Love can be. Sorry bowt dat

little deception.

When I started this blog, I said there would be fantasies. Thank you,

dear reader, for your patience and kindness of comments, reading

some of the most wild stuff, some of the most painfully honest. I have

been selfishly honest, and you have been breathtakingly kind and

supportive. This is one that I hope comes true. If I ever win the

lottery, you’ll know where to reach me, starting on Route 66.

Here comes REAL Donkey Truck, and I’m here, taking a risk at letting

you down, telling you a little crazily ,( like I am, just a little,)  *donkey

smile*  that I believe this truck will make it on the road, someday, that

I pray this truck MAKES it on down the road, a little non-profit

venture: Little Donkey’s Traveling Salvation Truck. Or Sister Donkey, if

you’re of that persuasion….

Throw in a little Salvation Army and you’ve got the right idea, and…

(and if you ARE of the Sister Donkey persuasion, here’s a little mood music so you can get in the right mood, LOL, while I tell you about my dream, and understand the name reference… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fA_owKnG08&NR=1&feature=fvwp )

And there we see the big ol’ barreling truck going down the highway, (hear the

music?) with a laughing Shrek Donkey on it, and a big ol’

heart=cheezburger (you know, cheeze=the solid milk of human

kindness, and all that…and some meat for physical sustenance, and

bread which man cannot live by alone….and a pickle. Yep! Cuz life

needs a few pickles to keep it interesting! ) and some other curious

symbols people have largely forgotten and people are pointing and

laughing, and a lone walking traveler sees it whizz by, and it honks,

and he sees it take the next exit….and he begins to run,

and it pulls into a truckstop.

..

and he runs, runs down the hill, cause he’s seen it before, and his

heart is hungry, hungrier than his grumbling stomach, and he forgets

his hurting feet, and he sees her open the door, the steps coming

down, and sees that great, big, bigger than life Sista Donkey comin’

down teh stairs, laughing loud, yes! he can hear it from the field! and

people are running! running to the truck! to be Fed.

New people are staring, children are pulling on their stunned parents.

Sally the truck stop waitress is standing outside, laughing with

pleasure. She told ‘em, TOLD ‘em Donkey was comin’! They thought

she was

crazy. Look at their faces! Look at ‘em wantin’ to go in and lookin to

see if the others will first! Look at the animals, running, ignoring the

calls of the stunned owners, running up to the great big laughing

massive woman…

Look at the big man running down the hill, like he woulda missed

something! When will they learn? Nobody dat wants what the Donkey

gots to give EVER gets turned away or left behind! Donkey Truck ain’t

no Pied Piper at the gate! Everyone what wants to get There makes

it…no need worrying and having to run…

They crowd up and stare inside. They’re quiet.

Inside, there is no spa. There is no majick. Just plain old fashioned

Love.

There’s a little Chapel of Love. There will be story time there. A

Beautiful Story of Love, for those what ain’t heard it, and for those

who can’t stop wanting to hear it.

There is a little kitchen, where the beautimuss Carol, the Donkey’s

right hand is busy, Right Now! stirring some wonderful tummy

tantalizing Soup. There’s always just enough, just like the Bread.

There’s a special man who makes it, with honey, and wheat germ, and

whole wheat, and bananas, the most delicious Love Bread you ever

tasted, a man who hasn’t seen a drink in a long time and has come to

peace with the Donkey a long time ago…

(his cornbread’s not bad, either…)

There’s a little med station for the hurting, sick, and broken, and

Bread Dad mans it.

There’s a happy song on the radio emanating from the truck:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taqLEjCVTdo

There are comfy old puffy couches, nothing an old traveler would be

afraid to plop down on, and there’s an old radio, playing music the way

it was meant to be played.

The walls are covered with pictures. Beautiful pictures. Pictures friends

drew, painted. Pictures of pets now over the bridge. Pictures of cheez

frends. Pictures of oceans, of mountains, of rivers. Posters with

wonderful things to read. Walls full of all manner of spectacular eye

candy. Pictures that make you laugh, and cry, and think.

There’s a little room, too, for the ones who need to shower, to soak,

to clean. There’s a little makeshift mini washer and drier, and clean

tee shirts and sweat pants for tired Travelers.

There’s a Need fullfilled for everyone. The room stays the same, yet

always fills the Need.

The old music player stops, and we listen in, and all we hear is a story

being told, and some happy slurps and sighs, and a little washer/dryer

unit working its little heart out, its hum comforting in the quiet room.

Bread Dad waits outside, quietly, petting Spot, puffing his cigar, while

Donkey tells the Story.

And the Donkey waits, patiently, for the day he’ll take over his father’s

job, and do his Father’s job, and the Donkey will listen, as it should be.

We have an Easter and Christmas story that’ll knock your socks off.

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