Chickens, kittens and eggs in a fine cosmic balance

“Which chicken?”

The characteristic I-swallowed-a-trombone-for-my-breakfast voice of Pete rumbled down the line.

This was in response to the frantic “I killed a chicken and I am so sorry” message that I left earlier in the day.

To be absolutely honest, that was not my message.

My message went more like this:

“Pete, it’s Jane here.  Great news – the three kittens are still alive and the chickens laid three eggs and there are still three live chickens.  Ha Ha!  Isn’t that great? Cosmic balance…”

It was said in a hopeful manner, at least.

“The red one,” I responded, thinking please don’t let her have a name, please don’t let her have a name…”

Oh,” Pete said, “She was an interloper; flew in when we built the coop and never laid a single egg anyway. No matter.”


“A handsome young farmer called Tom took her away after conducting a CSI inspection to determine cause of death was old age,” I woffled grateful to be out of the fray.

“Ha HA! I will have to roast Tom about having to rescue you…”

Now, how about them kittens, sleeping by the travelling bread oven…

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