Its legs trembling, its back bowed under two overflowing baskets of human debris, The Donkey stood in front of The Man. Blood leaked from the wound made by a large nail jammed into its backbone near its rump.

The Man grimaced, stepped around The Donkey, and yelled at the ceiling. “Hey, why am I waiting in line behind a dumb fucking beast that doesn’t know how to do anything–and doesn’t grasp mortality?? Animals don’t understand time–I’m the one with a larger brain–I’m the one with a more wrinkly cortex–I’m the one with a soul!”

Silence. The Man smashed his fingers on his iPhone.

A Voice spoke to The Donkey in unintelligible tones. The Donkey hung its head, the end-of-day cloud marbles of its eyes lost in a blizzard of pain.

The Man yanked junk from his pockets: an action figure, car keys, credit cards. Unable to find what he wanted, he swore and tossed his pocket garbage into The Donkey’s baskets, before shoving the animal aside.

“I’m going over Your head to The Powers That Be!” He manipulated his iPhone to project 3-D stained glass windows, a Buddha, a Hamsa, a Menorah, the pantheon of Yoruban deities, and others in a slowly turning circle around himself and The Donkey.

“You god/gods wherever you are,” he chanted, gesticulating meaninglessly. “I need something. I’m not just asking for myself, of course–Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Accessibility—I’ve been certified in all the required training, blah, blah, blah. Siri, connect me immediately with The Powers That Be.”

Siri connected him.

“Your performance review is next,” The Voice said.

The Man raged, “Well, excuse me, I’m almost out of time and The Donkey doesn’t seem to care, plus I highly doubt it has recorded history–which I do!”

Silence. Then, The Voice said, “How much time do you feel you deserve?”

The Man stomped his foot. “You got infinity plus one amounts of time–let’s see, how about forever?” He held out his iPhone. “You can trust me when I say this recording’s real–it was before Deep Fakes so it’s the real deal.” He projected a video of a birthday party where The Donkey was the center of a Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Donkey game. In place of its tail wiggled a bloody nub. The Man pointed proudly to a Child wearing a blindfold. “Me when I was a child.”

“Show Me the complete moments of this recorded history of You as a Child,” The Voice said.

The Man tapped Play on his iPhone. The figures in the projection moved.

“Wait, Donkey,” the blindfolded Child said, recording with a first-generation iPhone. “Your role is to hold still for this. It’s part of your job.”

“To have my tail nailed to the wall as I carry the party for all of You,” The Donkey murmured.

Stamping his feet, The Child yanked off the blindfold, forgetting the iPhone was still recording. “It’s for kids.  Kids–we love you because we love animals.”

The Donkey sighed. “You love animals to death.”

The Child waved the nail, not looking at it or The Donkey. A few bloody tail hairs fell from the nail, drifted to the floor. “But it’s only a thumbtack.”

The Donkey ducked reflexively. “That, when blindfolded, You can just as easily stick into my eye as my rump. All that exists for me is the burden and the stab of the nail.”

“But you bear your burdens admirably,” The Child’s voice conveyed childish insincerity.

“Because I am just an ass.” The Donkey limped in a circle. “How long have I got to live?”

The Donkey and The Child waited for an answer from A Voice which came in unintelligible sounds. Both of them appeared to understand the meaning of the sounds.

Here, The Man paused the recording. “That’s You, You can’t deny it!” he said to The Voice.

Silence.

The Man frowned, waited. Silence. He pressed Play.

“The Voice says thirty years is your reward for your faithful service,” The Child stated as though The Donkey was stupid.

“Respectfully, I was part of the same conversation as You and received that message directly.” The Donkey bowed its head.

The Child stuck out his lip, yanked his blindfold back over his eyes, and aimed the nail to pierce The Donkey’s rump.

The Donkey jerked in anticipatory pain. “I humbly beseech you, My Dear Child, as my gift to You on Your birthday, please relieve me of having to carry so many years.” Its legs trembled.

Triumphant, The Child laughed and tore off his blindfold. He paused, then bound it around The Donkey’s eyes. The Donkey stopped trembling. The Child Man nailed The Donkey’s tail onto its rump. The recording ended.

The Man projected religious symbols around himself once again. “You see? The Donkey doesn’t even know who or what You are! It thinks I’m You.” The Man snorted. “The Donkey gave me its time even though only You can do that!”

More unintelligible sounds passed between The Voice and The Donkey after which The Donkey trudged through the circle of symbols into the darkness beyond the line.

The Man started forward when The Dog entered the ring of symbols in front of him and lay down, looking upward. Unintelligible sounds passed between The Voice and The Dog.

The Man sighed loudly. “Hello, still here and running out of time to do important things while you talk with mere beasts!”

The Voice spoke. “The Donkey and The Dog are included in your recorded history. As you are literally presenting them as the key witnesses for your case, they are before you in line.”

Rolling his eyes, The Man pressed play, starting another recording. He paused it, pointing to himself as a Young Man in the projected video. “Me as a Young Man,” he said, half to The Voice, half to himself in a gloom. Shaking himself out of it, he gritted his teeth and pressed Play.

This recording took place at a dog show. The Dog was made to race around an obstacle course of barrels, tunnels, hoops, mudpits. Halfway through a tunnel, The Dog lay down, its sides heaving.

The Young Man smacked a small whip against his trouser leg. “Teddy Rex! T. Rex! You can’t stop now just because you know what’s going to happen next!  You’ve got to finish the course before they call time!”

The Dog lay its head on folded front paws. “I have fetched more sticks and sodden tennis balls than I can remember.”

The Young Man scoffed. “But I do remember.”

The Dog raised its head. “How many then?”

“6,650,497.”

“No. “

“6,650,513.”

“No.”

“You’re lying!” The Man shouted.

The Dog lowered its head. “When have I ever lied to You?”

The Young Man fumed, red-faced. “You’re lying now. As in down on the job.”

“I forgive You, Master. It matters, but I forgive You. And I have loved without question every moment with You, even those You have forgotten.” The Dog laid its head on The Young Man’s knee.

The Young Man pushed him away. “Then why aren’t you finishing the course so we can get the ultimate trophy?!”

“I humbly request that if You must reward me, consider how I shall have to run to finish. My feet will never hold out so long, and when I have once lost my voice for barking, and my teeth for biting, what will be left for me to do but run from one corner to another and growl?” The Dog leaned unnaturally, its head jerking repetitively to the right. It attempted to bow to the Young Man.

Disappointed, The Young Man shook his head and held up a hypodermic needle. The Dog half lay, half fell down before him. The recording ended.

The Man fussed with his iPhone which projected a new collection of religious symbols.

The Voice spoke unintelligibly to The Dog once again. The Man kicked The Dog out of the line. It slunk away in the direction The Donkey had taken. “The Dog doesn’t want more time! Why are You making Me beg?”

The Voice said, “I have asked The Dog to wait.”

The Man started forward, but The Monkey had already taken The Dog’s and The Donkey’s place in the line.

“Why are You letting these creatures waste my precious time!” The Man roared.

“Please continue with the recorded history.” The Voice spoke with the faintest whisper of a warning. Or maybe The Man imagined that part.

The Man pressed play. This recording had been filmed in a medical lab. He paused it and sarcastically pointed to The Older Man in a lab coat and then to himself, mocking The Animals’ and The Voice’s intelligence.

The Voice waited.

The Man pressed play. In this recorded history, The Monkey bore many wounds, shaved spots, rotting bandages. It scratched at itself as it sat against the bars of its cage, signing sometimes to itself, sometimes to The Older Man.

“It’s all right, you can speak.” The Older Man fussed with a tray of tools.

The Monkey hesitated. “I do not want You to think I do not like signing, because I do.  Between the organ grinding and the occidental medicine expeditions, in fact, I love signing, really I do.”

“So why are you speaking instead of signing?” The Older Man grit his teeth.

“Because I want You to feel comfortable.  Really, that is what is most important.  I know it puts me closer to Your level if I speak.  And I want to make up for that baseless rumor about You coming from me when everyone knows You come from The Infinite.  I am still being punished for that.  I think that is why I am here, is it not?  No disrespect, I mean, if this was Your decision.  I understand if You are more important than me.”

The Older Man picked up a scalpel. “You can always find a way to enjoy your life, no matter the job.”

The Monkey shivered. “I am always to play merry pranks and make faces which force people to laugh and if they give me a banana, and I bite into it, why it is rotten!  How often sadness hides itself behind resourcefulness.  Do you know I have never groomed another monkey?  Never picked a bug for one like me?  Only my own scabs.  I pretend they are bugs when I close my eyes.”

The Older Man removed the bandages on The Monkey’s head and replaced them with a metal helmet hooked to a computer. The recording ended. The religious symbols spun around The Man.

The Voice spoke unintelligibly to The Monkey. The Monkey stepped out of the circle of whirling symbols as The Donkey reappeared and stepped back in.

The Man stomped and growled, “Well?” His iPhone alarm sounded.

The Voice announced, “The Donkey, The Dog, and The Monkey have all agreed to give you what remains of their infinity.”

The religious symbols of The Man’s iPhone app winked out. The circle now rushing around The Man transformed into the numbers and lights of the Dow, the Nasdaq, and the S&P.  The Man collapsed in the throes of a heart attack. People rushed around him, trading and yelling.

The Man struggled to stop the heart attack. “How can this be happening to me?  I work out six times a week–I take all the right drugs–the doctor told me my heart was as healthy as a child’s—-I’m only, only…” He gasped and huffed, unable to speak.

“I have given you all the time of your life,” The Voice said, emotionlessly.

The Man struggled to make hand signals for trades as other traders stepped on and over him, grimacing. “Give…me…more!”

The Monkey died. The Voice spoke from above The Man. “Here is all of The Monkey’s time.”

The Man crawled, yelping as other people crushed his fingers underfoot. “Goddamned You–give me infinity!”

The Dog died. “Here is all of The Dog’s time.”

The Man tried to shake his fist, his face purple with effort. “I work harder than any dog already, You bastard!  More!”

“All that remains is The Donkey’s life.” The Voice sounded very far away now, somewhere above The Man.

The Man hauled himself onto his knees, only able to use one arm and in agony. “I can–can outsmart any Monkey, work–work harder than any Dog, and bear–bear more than any Donkey–give their lives to me now!”

The red rows of changing numbers exploded, plunging The Man into complete darkness. As he groped in the pitch black for anything to help him stand, thugs shoved him down and kicked him over and over. The Man cried for help. The thugs yelled, “Hold him down!” The Man screamed as a metal bat clocked him. The thugs took his iPhone and shone its powerful flashlight in his eyes, blinding him. Someone began carving him with a knife, then wiped the bloody knife on his shredded clothing.

The iPhone and its flashlight went flying as something began kicking the thugs with superhuman force. The Donkey brayed. Emergency lights came on. The Donkey collapsed.

A little dog and a monkey sat near a ragged pile of belongings. Next to them was a sign that read: I’m going to die and can’t care for my beloved babies anymore. Please help them.

The dog rushed over and licked The Man’s face until he pushed himself up off the ground, using The Donkey’s dead body. As The Man staggered to his feet, the little monkey brought antiseptic and bandages from the small pile of supplies and began cleaning and dressing The Man’s wounds where the thugs had carved the words The Universe Sent Me into his back.