Psssst – hey, it’s me, Birdie. Listen – enough with this fuss over chickens! I gotta tell you, I’ve had it up to my beak with this focus on those bags of feathers! All I hear is chickens, chickens, chickens. So what if they lay a few eggs? I can do a lot of things they can’t do: have you ever seen a chicken drink champagne, for example?
The last straw was the stockings – one for each of those pesty pullets, but for me? Nada. Zip. Zilch.
I’m giving serious thought to flying away from home and heading back over to Chadd’s house, where they truly understand me. The neck rubs are a lot better there and I miss kicking back and watching UCLA football with them.
All they watch over here is that silly HGTV. Lori, hey, if you’re out there – I promise I’ll eat my peas and carrots if you’ll let me come back! Wait – I hear someone coming – don’t tell that chicken lady you saw me at the computer!