Chickens

“Every morning I’m the first the rise, at dawn no less! Setting to my duties with great precision! An important service I tell you!”
“Yes, dear” I reply.
“I tell you, I don’t know why I do it! All I get from him is insult and injury!”
“He can be quite unreasonable at times, but he surely appreciates you” I sigh.
“You know what!? I might just quit this time!”
Everyday the same conversation.
Everyday the same hollow threat.
I cannot play along any longer…
I explode.
“IF YOU HATE IT SO MUCH, JUST STOP CROWING, CROCKPOT!”
To say that he is taken aback is an understatement. Indeed, Crockpot fell right off his perch in fright.
“Colonel Sanders!” He exclaimed. “Where did that come from chick?”
“I’m sorry, but I just cannot deal with this mood any longer. If you truly get no satisfaction from the job, why continue to do it?”
“Its tradition! The rooster crows when the sun rises. He lets the Farmer know that the day has begun!”
“I’m going to go and get this sorted once and for all!” I exclaim.
I rise from my nesting box and, shifting my weight side-to-side, set off through the coop door towards the gate.
“Please don’t!” Crockpot cries.  But I’m determined.
Reaching the gate, I spy the Farmer’s wife tending to the vegetable garden.
I amble up to her for directions.
“Excuse me miss, but might you know where the Farmer is?” I ask politely
“Shoooooo” is her response.
I try again, this time a little less graciously.
“Look here, I don’t much like you either. You come into my house, man handle me, and steal my wares! Just tell me where to find the Farmer, and I’ll be on my way”.
“Shoooooo chicken! I don’t know why Peter insists on keeping you! It’s not like your laying much these days!”
Why I never!
I fluff up my feathers to show her I mean business.