(Original photo stolen from this site)
Mom: Hi, it's me again -- I forgot to tell you, your dad wants to give you a mean hen.
Me: Really. [Not surprised in the least] Of course he does. Why on earth would I want a mean hen?
Mom: Well, she picks on the pullets, and your dad can't stop her.
Me, Failing To See The Logic: Well, we have three pullets, too -- what makes him think she won't pick on THEM?
Mom: Because she'll be "the new one." [Several puns flood my brain, involving pecking order and the new chick on the block, but don't let me sidetrack you]
Me: Oh, okay, but she picks on MY pullets, I suggest we make her in to a hamburger.
Me: Hey, Chas backwashed the pool and I shock-treated it, but --
DING DONG! DING-DONG-DING-DONG DING DONG!
Mom, over her shoulder: Oh, all right, just a minute! To me: Your father is ready to go.
Me: Lemme guess -- he's bringing the chicken RIGHT NOW, right?
Me: Of course.
Sigh. My father is the Chicken Fairy and I have a lifetime membership in his night terrors.