Maybe this is what killed the Egyptians.
Look at all that hay! I wonder if I can fit through the fence?
Oh, oh, my ears won’t go back… and I’m too fat to go forward.
I guess I’ll just have to stay here. Hmm… I can’t even reach the hay. That’s all right. I wasn’t hungry in the first place. I just wanted to stuff myself. I wonder how long I’ll be here? Someone is bound to come along. Someone with a super-modern high-tech donkey-saving tool. I don’t know why I wanted that hay, I wasn’t even hungry. But I’ll be hungry tomorrow. Then I’ll want that hay. But all I’ll have is the grass in front of me. I’d better be careful. I don’t want to eat it all. I’ve got to save enough grass for the next day, and the day after that. And I’ve got to leave enough on top so the roots don’t burn. Fortunately I’ve got a puddle of water, so I won’t die of thirst. Unless I have gas. I’ve heard that methane contributes to global warming, and if the temperature rises, the water will evaporate and the grass will burn. All because I wanted to stuff myself. And I wasn’t even hungry.
And so the days passed—night after day and day after night—and Blurtso tended his garden, eating only what was necessary to maintain his strength, and drinking only enough to slake his thirst. And from time to time it rained, and his puddle filled and his grass grew. And every day he looked at the hay, drying, splitting, and losing its fragrance, until one day when he was enjoying his morning snack… he slipped through the fence.
Hey! I’m skinny enough to get through! And to get out!