The fat hen laid an egg, sat on it for a few days, and out popped a gopher
which ran to a cow and suckled for two weeks before it went out on its
own to feed on dandelions, grass, sweet clover and whatever tender roots
it could find. It dug holes in Mrs. Diamond’s immaculately pruned front
lawn in search of sustenance and she kept chasing it away with one of
her husband’s golf clubs. She couldn’t for the life of her get close to it,
but she tried anyway for hours on end day after day until finally she
called an exterminator. Bye bye went Mr. Gopher, and the hen mourned
for two months before she laid another egg. This time, after she sat on it,
it hatched into a garter snake having a hissy fit which made her squawk
and squawk and fly to the top rung of the henhouse where, after a couple
of hours, she finally calmed down and fell asleep, and dreamed of
birthing a chick instead of these other forms of life. When she thought
about it later, after she woke up, she wondered what the hell kind of a
devil rooster had she hooked up with.