BALRAM had the only donkey cart in Springfield. This ensured that he held a monopoly on odd jobs. He moved furniture, lumber, steel, junk, garbage and people. Yes. He even dressed up his cart to attend funerals.
Balram was married and had one daughter. His wife was a stay-at-home mom and he earned the money to support the family.

Every day he could be seen traversing the village and sometimes going farther afield. Most of the villagers just jumped on when he went by. Even when he ordered them off most of them chose to ignore him. He stopped trying.
One particular Friday Balram had a full schedule. Move six loads of sand to the Freeman’s residence. Carry five bags of cow-dung to Mr. Ali’s farm. Pick up two loads of garbage and dump it in the nearby landfill, and haul three carts of scrap iron to Lambert’s Scrap Iron Depot. By the time he had completed his work it was dark and he was exhausted.

On this particular night a full moon was out. It was Friday the 13th and most folks had gone home before dark. Not Balram. One thing he wasn’t and that was superstitious. On his way home that night he passed the local burial ground. Turning into the village he urged Paddy to generate more speed.
Paddy was his loyal donkey. It was a hard working animal and Balram took good care of him. Whenever he drank himself silly and passed out on the cart, the animal would take him straight home. On those numerous occasions he would be awakened by the scorching sunlight the next day.

He swung into Springfield and gave Paddy a light tap with his whip. He never beat his donkey. There was no need to. The two had a strong bond of friendship. The touch of the whip did not bring the results he had hoped for.
“Pheeeeee wheeeeeet!”
A piercing whistle penetrated the night and caused Balram to grimace in pain from the volume. He glanced back to see a man sitting on the cart. He did not hear the man get on.
“Where you going old boy?”
No answer
“You going into the village?”
Silence

The man’s only activity was a piercing whistle every now and then. These loud, shrill outbursts were causing Balram ears some amount of pain and he had developed goose bumps after the first one. When he passed by the church and glanced back, the passenger was gone. He did not hear him leave either.
Balram headed home. He couldn’t get the strange whistle out of his head. He started to whistle. Even though it was not as loud it still gave him goose bumps.
When Balram reached home he ran into an unexpected problem. His wife refused to open the door.
“Who are yu?” demanded the frightened woman.
“Yo husband? Open de dam door!”
She complied.

“Wat de hell wrong wid you woman?”
Balram was irritated by her strange behavior.
“I…I… thought it was me great uncle Sunil. He dead long time but he does whistle same way.”
Balram’s anger dissolved and worry replaced it
“How he stay?”
“He get bald head, pot belly and a ugly mustache.”
Balram almost passed out. His passenger was Uncle Sunil.
Balram now carries a stout piece of stick for unwanted passengers.
So if you are visiting Springfield and a donkey cart goes by, don’t jump on or you know what? Crack!