The art came out looking a bit wonky in the end but that was about as good as I could get it ☹️

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To the cartels, the things that Colombia had in limitless abundance were cocaine, donkeys, and farmers. The trick was utilizing the latter two to get the former up past the border to the lucrative North American market. Thankfully there were always men with hungry families to feed.

It had been a particularly bad harvest this year, which was good news for the cartel. The farmers were queueing outside the compound. They were so desperate, that they were even supplying their own animals since the beasts of burden were now merely burdens in the famine times. These gifts were gratefully received and led away to the flensing rooms beneath the villa to be carefully butchered and harvested for their pelts. The men, meanwhile, would have to compete. With such a glut of volunteers, the cartel could afford to be picky, particularly with the border guards starting to grow wise. Only the finest mules would suffice.

The drug lord known as El Amo watched from the villa balcony as the would-be-mules were brought inside and put through rigorous tests of strength to determine how much product they could carry, with the weakest being sent on their way. Those that remained were commanded to walk around the villa on hands and knees, braying like donkeys; as much a test of their commitment to the role as it was their ability to blend among the normal livestock. El Amo watched them parade below. Some were instructed to eat grass. There was no place for dignity in a mule.

Twenty-three remained. Lastly, they were lined up and made to strip. El Amo descended for the inspection. The naked mules trembled in fear as he sauntered along the line, offering comments to his men with each one he studied. "This one is so ugly you will barely have to change the face!" or "Look at the muscles on this one. Imagine how much product he could carry. Such a beautiful, fat, pregnant Jenny he'll make! A belly filled with a million dollars!" The mule paled at his words, his resolve suddenly breaking, but the armed guards seized him as he tried to run, and dragged him away to be grafted into his new flesh.

At the end of the line, El Amo guffawed to see a hunched, wrinkled old man, naked except for his wide-brimmed straw hat. "Oh, but this one is only small! Are you sure it passed the tests?" El Amo scoffed, plucking away the hat and patting the man's silver hair. "We will barely fit two bags inside this little one. And this other here is just as old and feeble. What are these, brothers perhaps?"

The older farmers met his gaze unwaveringly. El Amo had to admire their balls, even if they'd soon be losing them. They must truly need the money. His eyes lit up at the last mule in the line, a tall, hale man with a barrel chest. A handsome devil too. I might just have to help myself to his skin while it's in my storage, El Amo thought to himself, pacing around the farmer to examine him from all angles.

"Now there is a fine, strong mare," he crowed, groping the man's toil-hardened physique in delight. "Solid bones - plenty for our surgeons to be working with. Oh, but what is a mare without her foals? The border guards will never suspect three together. Find a mare with a good set of teats for this one, and a pair of fresh filly skins for these two," he said, gesturing to the grey-haired men.