I rode out of the stables on top of an eight-foot-tall donkey that looked like she had robbed a Holstein cow and was now wearing the stolen clothes. Robert gaped at me. Desandra made a weird face: her right eyebrow crept up, her left went down, and her mouth got stuck somewhere between surprise and the beginning of the word “what.” Derek’s mouth opened and didn’t close until we came to a halt next to him. “What the hell is this?” Desandra asked. “This is Cuddles. She’s a mammoth donkey.” Derek grinned, leaning on the fence. “Do you have any self-respect left?” “Nope.” “I think she’s cute.”
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