The hen

One night, Tom did what he always did to his wife every Friday night.

He would kiss his wife.  Crawl into bed.  Fall asleep.

Suddenly, he awoke and an elderly man dressed in a white robe stood in front of his bed.

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom? And who are you?”, he asked.

“This is not your bedroom,” the man replied.  “I am St. Peter, and you my son, are in heaven.”

“WHAT?!?!?!!? Are you saying I am dead? I don’t want to die.  I’m too young,” replied Tom. “I want you to send me back immediately!”

“It’s not that easy”, said St. Peter.  “You can only return as a dog or a hen.  The choice is your own.”

Tom thought about it for awhile.  He figured that being a dog would be too tiring.  But a hen probably has a nice and relaxed life.  Running around with a rooster can’t be that bad.

“I want to return as a hen,” Tom replied.

And in the next second, he found himself in a chicken run, really nicely feathered.  But now he felt like his rear end was going to blow.  Then along came the rooster.

“Hey you must be the new hen St. Peter told me about,” the rooster said. “How do you like being a hen?”

“Well okay I guess, but it feels like my ass is about to explode.”

“Oh that!” said the rooster.  “That’s only the ovulation going on.  You need to lay an egg.”

“How do I do that?” asked Tom.

“Cluck twice, and then you push all you can!”

Tom clucked twin and pushed more than he was good for, and then ‘plop’!! An egg was on the ground.

“Wow!!”, Tom said.  “That felt really good!!” So he clucked again and squeezed.  And you better believe there was yet another egg on the ground.  The third time he clucked, he heard his wife shouting:

“TOM!!! For Christ’s sake!!! Wake up!!! You’re shittin’ all over the bed!”

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