The Funny Farm: Of Gods And Hens

Here’s the 4th installment from guest contributor, Deanna and just as funny as ever.

Local run, showing daily…

Of Gods and Hens (A short play in one scene)

Atheist chicken (aka Mammoth): I just don’t think the humans are gods.

Brownie: Girl, they can scare raccoons AND open doors. YOU can’t open doors. I can’t open doors, and I’ve near worn my beak to a nub trying.

Mammoth: Hawk can teleport through fences. It doesn’t make HER a god.

Brownie: She’s just found some stupid–

Hawk (interrupting): Oh! Oh! I can show you the hole in the fence! Oh! I can do it! Just follow me and–

Brownie & Mammoth (in unision): Shut up, Hawk!

Hawk (squatting low in front of them): yes, ma’ams, as you wish, ma’ams

Mammoth: I’m telling you, if the humans were gods they could stop the water from falling from the sky! If it rains any more we’ll grow webbing between our toes.

Clyde: Oooh, good point.

Twitchy: How I hate the sky water! The sky water is nasty and terrible just like all of you horrible sinners! I’m going to go tell the humans on you! Blasphemy!

Mother Superior (aka Blackie): Hush, Twitchy! Mammoth, have you already forgotten The Miracle of The Birdseed?

Mooch: The Birdseed! I have seen The Birdseed manifest! I have taken The Birdseed in my own mouth!

Misty: As have I!

Red: And I!

All of the hens rush for the front door, chanting: BIRD SEED, BIRD SEED, BIRD SEED, BIRD SEED, BIRD SEED, BIRD SEED, BIRD SEED endlessly

Mooch (sotto voce to Mammoth): You were just trying to get all The Birdseed for yourself, weren’t you?

Mammoth (trying to look innocent and failing drastically): Maaaaybeeeeeee…

————————End Scene———————-

On Discovering Gender

Our youngling chickens have discovered gender. We accidentally got a couple of males in our batch of chicks, but until recently they were all just chickens together. Lately, though, the boys have discovered that the girls are different in a very interesting way. Unfortunately for them, they have no social skills and the ladies don’t think they’re nearly as interesting. They keep trying though. Let’s just say that it’s a good thing they’re not human because they’d both be in lockup by now if they were.

With pullets (girls) their own age:

“Hey, Mammoth, buddy, there’s something different about you. You’re kinda cute for a dude like us. Wait, wait, you’re a girl, aren’t you? Hey, wanna bang? Aw c’mon, where are you going? We just wanna have a little fun!”

Mammoth and the other little girls keep their distance. They feel a bit betrayed that their “sisters” are acting so weird. The girls still want to hang out with them, but flee as soon as the boys start acting creepy.

With the younger laying hens they get varying reactions:

Occasionally, it’s “Enh, he’s young and cute and I’m a little horny, sure, let’s go.” Unfortunately for the boys, this is not the common reaction and it sets them up for a huge shock when the ladies are not interested in their shit. Today, they made the mistake of ganging up on Misty, seizing her back feathers in their beaks (chicken version of grabbing someone by the waist and groping their ass), and trying to get her to submit so they could mount. Misty ripped herself away from their grasps and went after them furiously. The boys were shocked and bolted, weeping and crying “Feminazi!” over their shoulders as they ran.

With the matrons:

The boys are interested, but they’re a little scared of the older ladies and make sure they keep a respectful distance. The old ladies are badass and wouldn’t hesitate to take them down – and the boys know it. They may be dumb, but they are not suicidal.

Deanna D is a former northern farm girl who aged out of girlhood and moved to North Saanich. She has returned to keeping chickens for the last 10+ years because she can’t convince her partner to let her have a milk cow. Her long-suffering neighbours are aware that she has more chickens than she is technically allowed to but for now keep it to themselves in exchange for eggs. Speaks several dialects of chicken, will translate on request.

Featured photo: Jack Babalon