Toe Painting for a Donkey

“You have to come. I don’t care. Meet there. Bye.” Lola ended the call abruptly, frustrated. Jim is always so hard to convince. Sick of his stupid crap. He knows we do this every year.

At 10 p.m. sharp, she was sitting at the boulder, waiting. Five minutes later, she heard noises in the woods and hoped they were him, not some evil entity. Shining her phone light toward the noise, she spotted Jim in his Nike sweatpants and black T-shirt.

“All right, my darling, I am here. Let’s get to it.” He took off his shirt, pulled body paint out of the backpack, and took off his shoes. “Come on. You wanted to do this. I’m here. Get ready like I am.”

Lola removed her bejeweled sandals and jeans. Jim gawked at her, realizing she had not worn panties. Okay, so she will be ready fast, and then we can get the hell out of here. She peeled her tank top off and turned her back to him. Jim unhooked her bra and tied her hair up. Lola sat back down, her feet in Jim’s lap. He painted each toe a different color, and then did a swoosh of bright pink body paint between her breasts. She repeated the ritual on him, but reversing the colors on his toes and using vivid royal blue on his chest. He turned his back to her, and she painted the circular edges of his buttocks with the blue.

They both turned to see the donkey coming toward them. “Hi, Brandy, come on, girl,” Jim coaxed the gray-faced donkey.

“Are you ready for the ride to the pond?” Jim asked Lola, who nodded. As they approached and were going to jump onto Brandy’s back, the donkey reared up, brayed, and sat down.

Lola laughed. “She wants the paint, Jim.”

“This is so stupid!”

“Shh, she has sensitive feelings. She is listening. Just paint her behind like I did yours. Then I will do the star on her forehead. Hurry up, it’s starting to get chilly.”

Jim whispered in Lola’s ear so the donkey couldn’t hear. “We are getting too heavy to ride your old donkey. She doesn’t like being painted, and neither do I. Can’t we just go home and celebrate Valentine’s Day with a ritual of chocolate and your sexy red nightgown?”

Lola shook her head furiously. “What is wrong with you? My parents showed me this ritual. They asked me to carry it on. You give me trouble every year, and I’m sick of it. Maybe I should leave your ass. Yeah, tomorrow.”

“No, Babe, come on. I know this is important to you, but it is kind of stupid.”

“You are insulting my family, Jim. I don’t like it. What is wrong with painting our toes and body parts and sharing it with my family donkey?”

“No one does this, Lola. No one but you. It’s weird.”

“You thought it was cute when we met. But now you are all settled in and don’t want to do things I like. You call my family's love ritual stupid.”

“No, no, you have it all wrong. I just would like to create a new ritual. One that we create together and can pass down. Your parents created this one. You drew me into it, and I have agreed for five years. Can’t we try something new?”

Lola walked over to Brandy and began painting the red star on her pet’s forehead. Brandy was braying again, but standing still while the star was coming to life. “You like that, huh, girl? I love you,” she whispered to the donkey. Brandy’s ears perked up as Lola patted her neck. She nuzzled Lola, lay down, and let out a deep sigh.

“Jim, she’s dead! She just died!” Lola was down on the ground, screaming and crying. “You killed her with your lack of commitment, and calling this ritual stupid. You are a murderer!” She threw the open body paint containers at Jim, splattering him in a medley of colors, and stomped away in her nakedness.

Copyright © 2/13/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin

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