Brett Berk

The Gay Uncle has returned from the tropics, now well informed of the difference between a TRIP and a VACATION (the latter is what one goes on without children), and ready to share his new pearls of wisdom. The first one revolves around wild animals. Due to some cruel Darwinian twist, the island of St. John–on which G.U. was tripping–is overrun with gangs of feral donkeys. One sees them everywhere–along the side of the road, among the ruins of Colonial sugar refineries, brushing past Jeeps in mini-mart parking lots””baring their menacing smiles and, when they”re feeling randy, their even more menacing erections! G.U. got to witness one of these first hand when he came upon a horny burro couple during a total-family snorkeling excursion. Donkey dick, indeed! Said member was roughly the size and shape of a baseball bat, and disappeared none too quickly into the female. As daddy climbed aboard and began rutting, G.U.”s three nieces watched in frozen horror. Fortunately, his brother-in-law Marty was on hand to explain the situation. “The one on the bottom is trying to give the other one a piggy back ride.”¯ Gunc reminded himself not to offer the girls said ride ever again.
A bit later, clearly feeling some post-coital hunger pangs, these donkeys reappeared near Gunc”s family”s shady beachfront set-up, and began nuzzling among their picnic scraps. Marty”s younger daughter, fresh from some pleasant experiences grooming horses at summer camp, decided that this signaled an opportunity, and approached the ass’ mangy snout, her hand outstretched, with petting its clear goal. “That”s a wild animal,”¯ G.U. said, repeating the information he”d read on about a thousand signs posted at five foot intervals around the entire island, and on every available piece of tourist literature. “They bite and kick whenever they feel like it, so it”s a good idea to stay away from them, particularly when they”re eating.”¯ This seemed to dissuade the girl briefly, and she returned to building sand-castles and taunting her sister and cousin. But when Gunc looked up from his book a bit later, he found Marty standing at the water”s edge, leading a hungry donkey into the sea with an apple core, his daughters right alongside him. Imagining that a child”s funeral might put a damper on the three remaining days of the trip, G.U. felt obliged to intervene. “I think the kids are a little close to that donkey,”¯ he said. “What exactly are you trying to do?”¯ Marty continued walking backwards; the donkey now in the surf up to its ankles. “I”m trying to lure it into the ocean,”¯ he explained, “so the girls can ride on it.”¯