Henry’s Hilarious Dinner Party: A Donkey’s Delight!
When most people think of a dinner party, they picture fancy dishes, soft music, and sparkling conversation. But when Henry the donkey decided to host his very first dinner party at the farm, things went sideways before the appetizers even hit the table.
Henry had seen plenty of humans gather around big tables, laughing, eating, and clinking glasses. So, one sunny afternoon, he declared (with a loud bray that echoed across the pasture), “I’m hosting dinner tonight!” The chickens, goats, and even the skeptical barn cat raised their heads in disbelief. A donkey hosting a dinner party? This was bound to be good.
Preparations began immediately. Henry set up a long table made from a couple of wooden planks balanced on hay bales. For decorations, he draped the laundry he had “borrowed” from the clothesline—who needs a tablecloth when you’ve got Farmer Matt’s bed sheets? The centerpiece was a bucket of carrots, which Henry considered both stylish and practical.
When the guests arrived, the chaos began. The chickens insisted on pecking at the silverware (plastic spoons from the farmhouse drawer), while the goats started taste-testing the table legs. The barn cat jumped onto the “tablecloth” and promptly took a nap right in the middle of the salad bowl. Henry, of course, was running around in a chef’s apron three sizes too small, braying orders like a donkey version of Gordon Ramsay.
“Don’t eat the decorations!” Henry scolded the goats.
“Please stop rolling in the breadbasket,” he begged the chickens.
“And for the love of hay, someone wake up the cat!”
Despite the chaos, the meal somehow came together. The main course? A hearty carrot casserole Henry had whipped up by tossing carrots, oats, and an entire jar of peanut butter into a trough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but the animals devoured it like it was a five-star feast.
The highlight of the night came during dessert. Henry had prepared a towering “cake” made of stacked hay bales frosted with molasses. The chickens started pecking at the sticky mess, the goats climbed it like a jungle gym, and the barn cat swiped her tail right through the top layer. Henry, determined to keep the evening “classy,” tried to light a single candle on top—but instead set his apron on fire. Thankfully, the ducks came to the rescue by splashing water everywhere.
By the end of the night, the “tablecloth” was shredded, the casserole dish was licked clean, and everyone was sticky with molasses. Henry looked around at the chaotic mess of his first dinner party and sighed. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t elegant. But the animals were full, happy, and laughing—or braying, clucking, and bleating in their own ways.
And that’s when Henry realized: the true delight of a dinner party isn’t in the fancy food or the perfect table settings. It’s in sharing the chaos, the laughter, and the carrots with the ones who matter most.
