About a week ago my father, The Chicken Fairy, announced that one of his seven pullets (teenage hens) was probably a rooster. "You want it?" he asked.
"No thanks," I answered, leaving no wiggle room.
"Why?" he asked. "Those roosters are beautiful birds. You should want one; they're interesting to watch. He'll make his first crow in about two months, only it won't sound like a crow. It'll sound squeaky until he learns how, this fall."
"As tempting as you make that sound, Dad, he's not a chicken, he's a chicken liability," I answered. "He won't lay any eggs, but he'll be another mouth to feed. He'll crow in the middle of the night, he could be mean to kittens and people, and it'll be that much more chicken crap on the sidewalk. No rooster -- no thanks!"
I was very clear. Still, I didn't bat an eye when I got the news last night.
"Mama, Grandpa gave you his rooster for your birthday!"
"He did, did he?"
"Yeah, and Grandpa put the rooster in with McGillicuddy and Li'l Supper[I don't know their real names but these are my go-to names for chickens] until they get old enough to run free."
"Super." *sigh* So now I have a rooster. Happy birthday to me.
Later, as I was putting away the birthday cake, Chas approached me conspiratorially. "Listen," he said, leaning in. "When you tell any of your friends in the blogosphere that you got a small cock for your birthday, I hope you'll articulate exactly what that means." *Chuckle, chuckle*
"You do know this is going in the blog, don't you?"
Who could possibly portray the dynamic and funny Marcy Massura in the movie? I used to think it had to be a young version of the late great Madeline Kahn, but that isn't an option, sadly. Now I know I was wrong all along. The glamorous comedian Sara Rue will play you in the movie, Marcy.
I didn't follow the Casey Anthony case or subsequent trial at all except for the past week, when it couldn't be avoided. Seems to me that she and O.J. Simpson and Joran van der Sloot should be consigned to the same jail cell, and made to clean steak knives for the duration of their sentences.