Luckyone

“We should dig the well before we’re too thirsty.” That was the Chinese proverb Jack would spout to inspire his son Franky and his pet donkey, Luckyone, along with the other dedicated workers on his farm, to get on with it lickety-split when flavour-of-the-month notions flooded his head. Outfitted with an untamed imagination and a cream-of-the-crop view of himself, Jack had a uncanny ability to charm the people around him into getting his dirty work done like dinner. To say the least, his Atilla the Hun leadership style was remarkably noteworthy.

Jack loved his farm. Above all he adored flaunting the fruits of the toil of labourers who marched to the beat of his drum. His mind tripped into high gear one day, over a conversation he had with a crony. Showing off the precision-straight furrows Franky and Luckyone had ploughed, Jack conceived an idea to streamline his operations.

To keep his farm running as tickety-boo as it did in his head, it tickled his fancy to sneak some new blood into the midst of his workers. He made up his mind to hire himself a high-falootin right-hand man. In fact, Jack rhapsodized in his vision of modern farmers like himself all across the land, each having their very own patronage-appointed right-hand man.

Sure, the change would be a kick in the gut to Franky who had grown up devoting his most cherished years to the farm, with the faithful help of Luckyone -- but times they were a changin’. “It is what it is,” Jack exclaimed as he bamboozled Franky and others into an upheaval in his attempt to usher in new blood and shed what may. Feeling like he'd fallen into a bewildered haze of disbelief, hoping it was all just a nightmare he's soon awake from, Franky truly believed his father would soon flip-flop to a new flavour-of-the-month plan for the future. He purposely and vividly imagined his dad would abandon this notional structure he was threatening to impose, without any regard to the mass confusion, and the crushing blow to morale it would inflict on the loyal crew.

“It’s going to be okay,” Franky said, thinking out loud and meaning to reassure himself and the others. “Soon my dad will introduce a new flavour of the month and we’ll get ready to dig that well instead.” With his relentless arrogance though, Jack, forged onward in oblivion to the devastation of his relationship with his son Franky, who for whatever reason still wished so to admire his father -- and with equal and apalling disregard for all the others who had toiled with pride and integrity for the good of the farm. Jack audaciously introduced his new wonder, Charlie, who fit perfectly into the devilish image concocted in his more and more evidently half-lame brain. As the new right-hand man Charlie was no stranger to dirty work, Jack knew he was just the right guy to step into it on the farm. In unison, Jack and Charlie chimed a banal, “We should dig the well before we’re too thirsty.”

Ominously, soon after Charlie’s arrival on the farm, Luckyone awoke in horror one day, to find herself in a dark, dank, and lonely place, just like deep situational depression. She cried out heartbreakingly to get the assistance she expected would come naturally from anyone who could see through the tainted scheme of the wrongdoers. When Jack himself heard the commotion, he went running with Charlie right at his side, to see what it was all about. Reeking of irony even more than she did of the bilge she was in, there was Luckyone looking up to them from the depth of a derelict well she and Franky had dutifully helped to dig for a gung ho flavour-of-the-month plan that Jack had sampled years earlier. He and Charlie had to think quickly of a way out of this particular pickle they'd unwittingly put themselves into when they discovered it was going to be so easy to get Luckyone and the othersw to go quietly along with their devious plan to clean house. In their blue funk, with total disregard for common sense and humane decency, Jack decided to just fill the neglected well with all the dirt that was piling up since he'd undertaken his baneful initiative. It felt like way too much trouble to think of a way to lift Luckyone out of what he'd dumped her into. She didn’t fit in well anyway with Jack's plan for his new streamlined operation.

Jack decided he'd better send Franky out on a proverbial wild goose chase to distract him while Charlie recruited help to fill the pit, with the more and more woeful Luckyone still at the bottom. Unbeknownst to the members of the ad-hoc committee struck to help with the shovelling, it was Charlie who had deviously led Luckyone to the depression she was in and willfully tipped her over the edge to hit rock bottom. The devil is always hidden in the details.

Some of the shovellers did wonder fleetingly if there might be something more humane that could be done. All the same, regarding the farmer as a leader among them, most of them simply resigned to go with the flow. They didn’t all actually shovel of course. Some just stood by and watched the others aiding and abetting in the atrocity. After all, Jack said he wanted the well filled. ”What can you do?” they mused. "It's his farm after all." To get the whole nasty deed over and done with as quickly as possible, some of them actually did grab their shovels to help Jack and Charlie mudslinging and filth-flinging over the once loved Luckyone.

At first Luckyone screeched in terror, unable to believe what was happening. Hardening their souls to avert each and every own consciencious feeling they each had, the mob of shovellers had to be strong in their resolve to continue what they had started. With their collective integrity dangling by just a thread, some were feeling an annoying sense of remorse about the obvious fate they were inflicting on the faithful old donkey. To the hard-headed relief though, Luckyone eventually calmed down as though in acquiescence to the morose destiny in store. She was presumably too exhausted to fight any further -- just as they had all hoped. Not having to hear her pleas to their principles made it easier for the mob to continue without having to endure the annoyance of niggling pinches of guilt.

When When Jack mustered the gall to peer down into the well that the mob was dutifully transforming into a grave, he was astounded. With each shovel load that the band of followers dumped onto her, the sanguine burro was doing something Jack could never have imagined was possible. There stood Luckyone, strong and calm, shaking off the dirt as it landed on her head and back. To what would turn out to be the good fortune of all, Luckyone sensed the quiet support and encouragement from her friends on the farm as well as the unbearable longing that Franky would suffer if she were to succumb to the wicked plan of the sheepish ones. She was able to draw the strength and resolve she needed to fight for what was right. While the throng of adherents continued to shovel, Luckyone kept shaking it off and taking a step up. When she finally stepped firmly up onto level ground she trotted off immediately and exultantly to find Franky.

Wouldn't you know the shovellers circled around the old well were in perfect formation for a congratulatory round of pats on the back for the achievement of having “helped out.” Jack and Charlie even gave each other a big ol’ high five for masterminding Luckyone's rescue. Some among them must have struggled you would think, with the sense of evil and betrayal in which they had been willing to partake. Those ones made up their minds to join more honourable circles so that when what goes around comes around, they could hope to be the better for it.

In the years that followed, Franky marveled at how different the outcome would have been for everyone if Luckyone had just laid down to accept the sinister fate the accomplices had drummed up. What finally happened with faithful old Luckyone was that she vengefully gnawed off her rightful pound of flesh from Jack and Charlie for trying to bury her alive, along with the hopes and dreams of Franky and the other workers. They learned a valuable lesson when the festering wounds from their bites got infected and they both became so sick they had to take an early off-ramp and retire early from the farm they had professed to love so much. It all goes to show -- "If you try to cover your, er uhm -- Luckyone, it will come back to bite you.

Luckyone was a donkey and did what she felt she had to do to strike a chord for justice. As real-life good fortune has it, we don't all have to be asses and seek revenge. We can just decide to be Luckyones and to take each challenge we face as an opportunity to shake it off and take a step up!

Ardently,

Kathleen Betts