Duccio. Christ Entering Jerusalem, from the back of the Maestà Altarpiece. 1308-1311.

Last year marked the last time that Dirk Arena would ever be upstaged at an awards show by anyone. He was no fledgling to show business, after all. He’d done some things—good things, quality things. He’d been nominated for an Oscar for his riveting work in The Movie About the Guy. He’d done stand-up, opening for Joan Rivers, and had cut a duet with David Hasselhoff. He was also no stranger to philanthropy. He’d poured millions into stitching up that hole in the ozone and donating the leftovers from his catered events to homeless shelters.

The problem was that everyone had forgotten all this. Now all he was known for was The Guy Kanye Slapped for Stepping on the Back of His Sneaker on the Golden Globes Red Carpet. It had been an accident! But there was no convincing Mr. West.

But this year’s Globes would be different. Dirk Arena wanted to call attention to his latest charitable effort: finding loving homes for the poor, oppressed mules that were forced to carry tourists up and down the Grand Canyon. He had three of his own roaming his backyard, and although he couldn’t bear to go near the filthy beasts, he loved them like he would his children, if he had any. It was time to put The Sneaker Incident to bed, and bring the asses to the forefront.

That’s why Dirk Arena strolled up the red carpet the night of the Golden Globes, all smiles atop Picnic, a plodding donkey that smelled of hay. He waved and beamed, basking in the paparazzi’s love. Finally, some recognition for his work! The valets looked confused and pissed, but not as confused and pissed as the person shrieking behind him.

“That donkey just crapped on me!"

Dirk Arena winced as the paparazzi’s attention swiveled to Picnic’s behind and a belligerent Kanye West wearing shoes slick with excrement. This was not going exactly as planned, was it?