Silence of the Donkey's

There was a glorious lightning storm west of town a few evenings ago. My housemate Lisa and I took a drive to catch a better view. My eyes celebrated the unusual patterns the lightning bolts made. The scent of fresh cut hay and bulging rainclouds wafted through my olfactory system. My ears delighted in the soft sounds of the breeze rustling the wheat grass and the ever so soft hawing of the neighborhood jackass. No, really. Someone - probably even more than one someone - near my house owns a donkey. It wakes Laura and Lisa up in the middle of the night sometimes. But what exactly do you do about a rude jackass? An obnoxious jackass? A loudmouth of a jackass? It's not like you can go to the jackass's mom and complain to her...
When I first moved into my current house I slept in a different bedroom. It was upstairs and at the front. Because I like fresh breezes blowing on my face as I sleep (is that a sign of being a romantic? I like to think it is), I would often have my window open for most of the year. Even in winter it would still be open a crack. But in the winter, sound seems to carry farther then it does otherwise. And that's when the lambs would wake me up. Can you imagine being woken up at 3 in the morning to the sound of lambs? Try picturing it. Go ahead...I'll wait. It's cree-peee, right! So now be the person who (because said cold air carries said sound so well) thinks the lambs are lost somewhere on your street and opens the front door to find them when she can't see them out the screen on her window because her nose is in the way. But NOTHING IS THERE! The crying of the ghost sheep is the only thing that is there, except now for me in my pajamas. But what do you do? How do you obtain the silence of the lambs? It's not like the kids who are having a raucous party down the street and you "invite" the cops. Who you gonna call to silence the ghost lambs? And you better not say "GhostBusters!" Grow up. Some things are just not a laughing matter.