The Mule

One rather hot Summer in a local village, an aged mule passed away in his stable. His equally aged lady owner, dismayed at the sight of her well-worked mule, lying dead in the stable, was at a loss as to what to do with him now he was of no further use to her.

She wandered back to the kitchen, turning various ideas over in her mind, she decided that the best thing to do was to cover it over with as much hay as she had in the stable, and let it get on with whatever it is that corpses do.

On about the third day, when several neighbours began to express concern as to where this dreadful smell was coming from, upon investigation, found the offending stable, which, of course, had at least a ten metre “no go” radius.

The problem was brought to the attention of the local mayor, whom just had to come to see with his own eyes, or rather more, with his own nose, just how bad the problem was. After a brief chat with the now rather embarrassed lady owner, and indeed after ensuring that it was in fact a mule, and not some poor unfortunate person, took the decision to bury the offending animal in concrete. So a suitable team was assembled and armed with face masks and protective clothing they set about and buried the carcus in a massive 8 cubic metres of concrete, leaving a rather strange relic for future generations to discover at some time in the future!