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THE DONKEY

Written by
Tom Bailey

Based on the 3rd page prompt: storm. microscopic. jolt.

tmbailey@gmail.com

INT. OFFICE ANTECHAMBER - DAY
On a bench sits MARTIN BEAUREGARD, 20s and slightly rotund,
wearing a cheap suit. He grips a briefcase in his lap. Loud
SCREAMS come from behind a closed door nearby. A SECRETARY,
30s and bookish, finishes typing and leaves, ignoring him.
After a few moments, another MAN, 20s, STORMS out of the
office and down the hallway, not even making eye contact with
Martin. Martin approaches the slightly open door, peeks in.
MR. HALEY (O.S.)
That you, Beauregard?
Martin freezes, then takes a deep breath, gulps, enters.
INT. OFFICE - DAY
Behind a large desk sits MR. JAMISON HALEY, 50s and bearded.
He lounges in a massive leather chair, opposite Martin. There
is a moment of awkward silence, the older man staring at the
younger. Martin stands, gripping his briefcase.
MR. HALEY
What’s in the briefcase?
MARTIN
Files. Uh, regarding the beach
development. I thought they might
be pertinent to our meeting -MR. HALEY
Sure, more paperwork. Have a
seat... Have you ever heard the
Indian fairy tale about the coyote
and the donkey?
MARTIN
No, sir. I haven’t.
MR. HALEY
It’s one of my all time favorites.
So this coyote comes across an old
broken down donkey. And, being the
mischievous little sonofabitch that
he is, this coyote takes a few
handfuls of cash he has lying
around, and he shoves it -- gloop -right up the donkey’s ass. Singles
mostly, but a few sawbucks in there
for good measure. Then this fucking
coyote goes into town, and he finds
a wealthy man, a merchant, selling
his wares by the river.
(MORE)

2.
MR. HALEY (CONT'D)
And this coyote starts flapping his
lips about how he has brought to
town a truly miraculous beast,
possessing a most amazing -- albeit
somewhat nauseating -- talent. And
that’s when this coyote kicks the
fucking donkey right in the
stomach, hard as he can. And guess
what happens?
MARTIN
... I don’t know... The donkey
shits out the cash -MR. HALEY
The donkey shits out the cash!
Exactly fucking right, Beauregard!
You have heard this one before!
This outburst causes Martin to JOLT upright in his chair.
MR. HALEY (CONT’D)
So this coyote, he gets the
merchant to buy that good-fornothing donkey for quite a hefty
sum, on account of this donkey
having demonstrated such a
miraculous talent. And you know how
that works out for the merchant,
don’t you, son?
MARTIN
Probably not so well -MR. HALEY
You ever met an Indian?
No, sir.

MARTIN

MR. HALEY
Haven’t ya? Well they sure know how
to spin a yarn, I’ll tell you that.
Martin nods. Haley stands, rounds the desk toward Martin.
MR. HALEY (CONT’D)
Now why do you suppose I related
that particular tale to you,
Beauregard?
MARTIN
... To teach me a lesson --

3.
MR. HALEY
It’s an allegory, that’s right. And
in this allegory, who do you
suppose is the wealthy merchant?
MARTIN
Mr. Haley, I -MR. HALEY
Me. Ha! That’s right. Me. And who
do you suppose is represented by
the greedy little fucking coyote?
MARTIN
Please, sir, you should -MR. HALEY
You! And your real estate
“associates,” all fuckin’ scum -Martin SLAMS the briefcase on the desk next to Haley.
MARTIN
You need to open this. Sir.
Haley looks at the briefcase, then back to Martin, smiling.
MR. HALEY
I need to, huh? Yeah? Well. You
give me one goddamn reason, son.
One tiny little microscopic reason
I should not grab you by the scruff
and eject you through that window.
MARTIN
You ever hear the one about the
merchant and secretary?
Haley stops, now slightly confused. Martin slides the
briefcase over to him. He opens it. A look of shock.
MARTIN (CONT’D)
You see, there was this happily
married merchant -MR. HALEY
What do you want?
MARTIN
... What every wolf wants.
Haley browses a set of photos. Martin flashes a toothy grin.
FADE OUT.