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Donkey had a big mouth. Everyone who had ever met the diminutive equine, knew that he was loud, always talking a mile a minute. There were some people who avoided him like the plague, annoyed by donkey’s nonstop chatter. He had garnered a reputation in the swamp, and the surrounding area for being a chatterbox. Motormouth, they called him. Always running off his big mouth.
But although Donkey was a big talker, he was also a genuinely nice guy. He was loved and respected by the other forest creatures – magical, and nonmagical alike. They knew that he had helped Shrek save his swamp home, that they had both fought to give back everyone their home, when the corrupt Lord Farquaad had insisted on relocating them. Donkey was a good guy, even if he did have a few annoying habits. Which is why everyone was so shocked when he went missing.
Donkey went missing on a Tuesday afternoon, on a day that was otherwise mundane, and regular. He’d left home, prancing down the narrow forest path, singing to himself as he narrated everything that he saw around him. He talked to himself about the flowers growing by the path, and the fat bees lazily sleeping, covered in pollen. Donkey talked about how excited he was about going out to dinner with Shrek and Fiona that evening. They were going to try out the new hot pot restaurant, going on a double date with his wife, Dragon.
Donkey didn’t see the witch at first. She was lying in the tall grass, only the tips of her pointed boots visible. He had his head up high, staring up at the low branches above him, his hooves clip clopping down the path, as he continued talking. When he heard the witch groan again, he stopped in his tracks.
“Oh!” Donkey stared at the two tiny feet sticking out of the grass. “Well, hello. Are you okay? Why are you just lying there? Did you fall off your broom, or something?”
“Yes, I’ve fallen off my broom,” the witch confirmed, as she sat up. “My name is Hazel, and I’m from far away. I’m coming here to visit my sister.”
“Oh, I know most everyone in this swamp,” Donkey assured her. “If you’re lost, I can help you find your sister. My name is Donkey.”
“Oh, pleased to meet you.” Hazel slowly stood up, one hand on her head. She was rubbing the large bump on her head, where she had hit her head in her fall. But she looked like she would be okay. “My sister’s name is Clover. She’s just opened a new hot pot restaurant in the area.”
“Oh, I know exactly where that is!” Donkey said, his eyes lighting up. “I’m actually going there right now. I can take you.”
Donkey was glad to have company, as he bounded down the rutted path. He was eager to try out the new restaurant, and was glad that he had stopped to help the witch. He clicked his hooves together, leaping up high in the air to reach the flowers on the bottom branches, snapping at them with his large teeth. Donkey was near the restaurant, and he glanced up at Hazel, his eyes shiny with excitement.
“C’mon, it’s just up here.”
As soon as Hazel saw the hot pot restaurant, she grinned. The sign on the front of the building was brand new, announcing that the restaurant was having its grand opening. Hazel could see that there was a line-up of people standing outside, waiting to be let in. But it wouldn’t be opening its doors for at least another hour. Everyone was really excited to go in, and try out the new restaurant. They’d never had a hot pot restaurant in their town before.
When Donkey went to the front doors, he banged his hoof on the wood, calling out for them to let them in. The door creaked open a few inches, and a witch peered out at them. She gave them a surly look.
“It’s not open, yet,” Clover said. “Go wait in line, like everyone else.”
“Your sister’s here. I found her in the woods.”
Clover glanced over, and saw Hazel leaning on her damaged broom. Her face lit up, and she let them both inside the building. The two witches immediately started talking, while Donkey looked around the new restaurant. There were small tables set up, with linen tablecloths, and small candles. The walls were adorned with paintings, and there were bouquets of flowers fresh from the nearby woods.
The two women were talking animatedly amongst themselves, forgetting completely that Donkey was even in the room. Clover was showing Hazel the restaurant, telling her that everything was ready for their big opening. Donkey followed alongside them, peering into the pantry. He saw that there were jars and cans of food lining the shelves. And in the ice box, there were animals strung up by meat hooks – rabbits, and squirrels, and a large deer.
“We’re going to keep it between us, of course, but I’ve had a disagreement with the meat vendor. He was asking for way too much money,” Clover said, with a shrug. “So, I’ve been getting my own meat, locally sourced.”
“But aren’t the animals here magical?” Hazel said, surprised. “They’re sentient.”
“Some of them are.” Clover shrugged, unconcerned. “I really need this restaurant to be a success – I’ve put all my savings into this place. And if that means killing a few magical creatures, then so be it.”
“WHAT???!!” Donkey said loudly, staring at the witch in shock. “You’re cooking magical creatures?”
As soon as he spoke, the two witches turned their attention to him. Donkey realized that he was in danger. He never should’ve spoken, but it was too late for that. Donkey started to slowly back away, heading for the front door.
“I’m just going to go,” Donkey said. “I didn’t hear anything, I swear.”
But it was too late for that. He’d overheard them, and they all knew it. Clover rushed towards him, determined to grab the donkey, and stop him before he would escape. Donkey’s hooves clip clopped on the wooden floor as he ran away. But he never made it to the front door. Donkey was tackled by the two witches. He fell to the floor, the breath pushed from his lungs. Donkey tried to fight back, but they were too strong for him.
They tied him up with some twine, forcing his four hooves together. Donkey lay on the floor, unable to move. He thumped his tail angrily against the floorboards, as he stared at the witches. They hadn’t gagged him, thankfully, so he could still talk.
“I promise that I won’t tell anyone what you said,” Donkey told them. “But please, you’ve got to let me go.”
He continued trying to talk his way out of it, desperate for them to let him go. But Clover was insistent that now that he knew too much, they would just have to keep him as their hostage. If he started talking, then they wouldn’t be able to open the restaurant for their grand opening in just an hour. The entire town would find out what Clover had done, and she would lose everything. They would probably arrest her, or run her out of town.
Donkey continued to plead and beg, talking loudly to the witches. But it was no use. Clover was going to keep him as her hostage. And though Hazel had expressed some doubts, she was going along with whatever her sister said.
“My friends are coming to the restaurant tonight,” Donkey said. “Shrek and Fiona – and my wife, Dragon. We’re going on a double date.”
“Well, your wife’s not going to find you here,” Clover hissed at him. “Chatterbox, you’re a thorn in my side. I can’t have you going around the forest, telling everyone my secrets. If anyone finds out that I’ve been cooking up magical creatures, then I will lose everything. I just can’t have that. So, I’m going to shut you up once and for all.”
“What are we going to do?” Hazel asked, looking to her sister for directions. She hesitated, remembering how Donkey had helped her earlier, and Hazel gave the short donkey a sympathetic look.
“We’ll tie him up, and we need to find a way to shut him up for good. We’ve only got half an hour until the restaurant opens – and I can’t have him getting in the way of my success.”
Hazel and Clover hauled Donkey up, and placed him in the chair. They untied the twine around his hooves, and then tied him up to the chair. Donkey’s hooves were tied tightly to the arms of the chair, and though he struggled against his binds, he couldn’t break free. Instead of using the twine, Clover had grabbed some rope that was infused with some sort of magic – and he was held fast in place. Donkey watched with horror, as she began threading the large needle.
“What are you doing?” Donkey asked, horrified. “No, no, I don’t want that thing anywhere near me! No, thank you, Clover. That is a bad needle. I do not like that needle!”
“I’m going to sew your mouth shut, to keep you quiet.” Clover glared at him, her eyebrows etched together. “When your friends come into the restaurant for their date, I don’t want to hear you screaming and shouting, trying to get their attention.”
Donkey tried to fight her off, but Hazel held him still. Clover brought the threaded needle to his mouth, and started to tug it through his lips. Donkey began crying, as the pain was intense. Clover pulled the needle and thread through his lips repeatedly, drawing the long thread through his skin. And when she was done, Donkey’s mouth was tightly sewn shut – and he was unable to speak. Tiny droplets of blood dripped down from the wounds, falling onto the floor in front of him. The black stitches were crisscrossed, effectively holding his mouth shut. He tried to speak, tried to make noises, but it was to no avail. He could still breathe through his nose, his nostrils flaring, as he stared at the witches with tear-filled eyes.
The witches left him in the pantry, switching off the lights and leaving him in the dark room. As he sat there, still tied to the chair, Donkey could hear the witches begin to open the restaurant for their first ever dinner service. There was a loud hustle and bustle, as the customers began to pour in, and get seated. They were ordering food, and drinks, and talking loudly.
Donkey could hear a lot of his friends and neighbours in the restaurant, and he squeezed his eyes shut, still crying. And as he sat there, Donkey eventually heard Shrek and Fiona’s loud voices. They were seated near the kitchen, just about fifteen feet away. So close! Donkey started to try and make some noise. He couldn’t talk, or scream. But he could still move his hooves a little bit, so Donkey started to rap them against the wooden chair, trying to make enough noise to alert them to his predicament. But it just wasn’t enough. The ropes were too tight, and though Donkey tried his best, he eventually tired himself out.
All through that dinner service, Donkey was filled with intense anxiety. He heard Shrek and Fiona talking loudly a few times, wondering what had happened to him. it just wasn’t like Donkey to stand them up like that – especially since it’d been his idea to go to the hot pot restaurant that night. And his wife, Dragon, was agitated, pacing back and forth in the restaurant. Donkey recognized his wife’s heavy footsteps, the floor rattling slightly under her girth. Shrek and Fiona began arguing at one point, wondering what had happened to him.
And finally, the restaurant closed down for the night. Hazel and Clover ushered out their guests, locking the door. And then, they began cleaning up the place – scraping the trash off the plates, and washing the dishes.
“What are we going to do with Donkey?” Hazel asked, looking at her sister. “Could we let him go, now?”
“No, we can’t.” Clover shook her head. “He’ll still tell someone what happened. We’ve used up most of the meat in the icebox for tonight’s service. Another great service like this, and I’ll be able to pay the meat vendor. But I think that we can put donkey on the menu. I’m thinking of making a nice roast, maybe some soup. It would be nice to dispose of him in such a way. His friends will eat him, and they’ll be none the wiser.”
Hearing what they had planned for him sent a chill down Donkey’s spine. He was terrified, not wanting to be eaten. None of this was fair. If only he had managed to keep his mouth shut, this wouldn’t have happened. But it was too late for that.
Hazel opened the pantry door, and stared at him. She was wearing a pair of kitchen gloves, and she had a large knife in her hand. Her hands were shaking, as she stared at Donkey.
“It’ll be over quick,” Hazel promised. “I swear.”
Donkey stared at her, begging silently to be let go. But Hazel wasn’t going to undo his restraints. He stepped further into the room, still wielding the knife. She hesitated, not wanting to follow through with it. Clover walked into the room, and nudged her out of the way. She set an old metal bucket down on the floor in front of Donkey, then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Clover pulled his head down over the bucket, then grabbed the knife from her sister.
“We cut him quick and deep,” Clover said, “and we let him bleed out. It’ll be messy, but he won’t suffer too much. Don’t think that he’s sentient. He’s just like the deer that used to roam around in our backyard. And lord knows you love a venison roast, Hazel.”
“I do, yeah.”
The blade caught the light, and as it slowly approached, Donkey was petrified. The knife was wicked sharp, and Clover pressed it against his throat. One long slice, and he would be finished – bleeding out into the bucket below. He would be eaten, consumed. And his wife and children would never know what had happened to him. Donkey was internally screaming, but he couldn’t make any noise louder than the muffled murmur behind the stitches keeping his mouth clamped permanently shut.
And then, Hazel screamed out in pain, as she was grabbed from behind and shoved face first into the wall. The shelf above her snapped, and the cans tumbled down onto her, knocking the witch unconscious. Donkey saw a flash of reddish-purple, and he immediately brightened up. Dragon had returned to the restaurant, looking for him.
Dragon grabbed Clover, her claws digging into the witch’s arms – hard enough to leave gouges. She began throwing her around like a ragdoll, slamming her against the floor a few times until she was certain that the witch was knocked out. Dragon released her, kicking her to the side. She rushed to her husband’s aid, nuzzling her face against Donkey’s for a few seconds, letting out a small sound.
Donkey wanted to say her name, wanted to pull her into his arms in a warm hug – but he was still restrained. Dragon began undoing the ropes. And then, she gently used one of her talons to start cutting away the stitches keeping Donkey’s mouth shut. Once his hands were free, Donkey was able to start pulling the threads out of his skin, dropping them onto the floor. He hugged his wife, greatly relieved that he wasn’t going to be eaten.
“Thank you, Dragon,” Donkey said, refusing to break his tight hold from around her neck. His voice was hoarse. “I love you so much.”
Dragon picked up her husband, and carried him out of the restaurant. He was weakened, and tired from everything he’d been through. Dragon held him tight, as she flew through the air towards their home – her husband safe and protected in her arms. Nobody was ever going to hurt Donkey ever again. Not on her watch.