dad and the chickens

today is a good day, so instead of bitching and moaning i will tell you a story about my dad when he was a little boy:

When my dad was about four years old it was his job to gather the eggs out of the chickenhouse every morning. At this time, among the chickens there lived a very mean rooster. Every day when he went in to collect the eggs, the rooster would chase him and peck at his legs. Finally, in despair, he went to his grandfather and said, "Grandpa, whenever I go in to get the eggs the rooster pecks at my legs. What should I do?" His grandfather told him to find a big stick, and take it with him the next time he went in the chickenhouse. If the rooster came at him, he was to just hit it as hard as he could with the stick. Well, my dad took his grandpa's advice and found a good, stout stick. The next morning when the rooster came rushing at him in the henhouse, he smacked it good and hard with that stick...and killed it stone-dead. That night they ate the rooster for dinner.

signing off from circle,mt where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average
(to plagiarize the prarie home companion)