Well the story was about a chicken. I have to think this had something to do with why it's been forgotten. OK, and the story was rather limp and pretty repetitive too. But the message was good. It was right on. It's what seems to be missing in the yutes today. "Oh fur Christ's Sake, is this one of those 'When I was your age...' stories??" Pffffft. I don't know what it is. It's something. And by the way, I'm going to call this little bastard hen or chicken or whatever, Henny Penny. HP for short, because it's not fun writing Henny Penny in every other line. And I'm using this name because, like I said, I had thought that was the name of the chicken in question. So the story then..
Henny Penny. The story of a chicken who gets tired of doing for everyone else and getting nothing in return. A vengeful chicken? Sure. An angry chicken? Why not. A sado-masochistic chicken? Pretty sure, but I don't talk about this side of Henny.
Now this chicken was kind of a dick for not outright telling the other animals the secretly planned outcome. Ole Henny Penny starts out drooling at the beak over her imagined loaf of steaming, hot, fresh from the oven, bread. She's thinking of this bread and how she's going to start recruiting for help to make the bread. She already sees that she'll make the loaf from scratch and that no one else will be willing to do anything but eat the final product. I'm beginning to think this is a barnyard full of wankers.
Now in all honesty (because I was lying to you before?) I have to believe HP has put up with the bullshit of the other animals for so long she's finally going to teach them a lesson. Whether she was born an asshole or if her friendships just pushed her toward the personality she now exhibits, is one for the ages. It's akin to the question of what came first, the chicken or the egg?
HP is thinking of this loaf of bread and struts her way out among her frolicking, no-cares-in-the-world, friends of her's.
HP: "Hey Pig. Would you care to help me.."
Pig: (rooting around for some scraps of food under the trough) "NO! Beat it, you clucky little pest."
HP: "Okay." ...and thinking {You won't be getting shit later on, you pig fucker.}
Well it's true. This pig has recently become a father. His lovely sow birthed 9 piglets. One was a runt. Now old Fern just fell in love with this runt and.... oh. Wrong story.
HP skips along to the next friend, as best a chicken can skip. Little clucks forced out of her throat every time her chicken feet contacted the dusty earth. Skipping her way over to the horse with a blessed vision of that steaming loaf of bread, hot out of the oven. And by the way, for this next interaction, you should know the barnyard animals have decided a chicken listens with their eyes. It's unclear where a chicken hides their ears if they indeed have them at all.
HP: "Hey Horse. I'm planning on making bread. I sure could use some help.."
Horse: "Look, I don't want any of your 'Bread' you round squawking bag of feathers. If you come around one more time, asking me to help you make anything, {moving her horse lips an inch away from HP's right eye...and whispers..} I'll make sure one of these here horseshoes {show's Henny the underside of her front left hoof} finds it's way up your chicken ass. Is this getting through to you?"
Henny blinks (as long as she has eyelids... and if she doesn't, then she didn't blink, OK?). She provides no response. She simply pivots on one stick of a leg and struts off to another animal. Then, recalling the last interaction, thinks better of it and heads back to the chicken coop. HP half flies, half scrambles, up to her nest and digs out the seed of grain she'd hidden away, with her sharp yellow beak.
She then goes out behind the chicken coop, finds what seems a suitable spot, scratches up the ground for some three minutes, and finally, opens her beak over the 1/2 inch deep trench that now lay before her. The seed fell silently to the bottom of the trench and Henny's eyes widened a bit. See, that's how she smiles. Her beak is pretty well fixed and doesn't allow for curves of any sort. She has instead settled on widening her eyes for surprise, pain, and of course smiling. For boredom, contentment, and frowning, she simply squints.
So, now smiling, Henny turned her backside to the trench and began running in place. Wings pumping with such speed they are a blur. Small pebbles rocket out behind the animated chicken, engulfed in a noticeably slower moving, earthy spray of dust. The hole she had dug only minutes ago, slowly fills in. And though she didn't think it possible, her eyes widened even more.
Content that the hardest work was behind her, HP now spent her days sipping water from various places around the yard. She'd hold the water in her closed beak, then neck outstretched and low to the ground, she'd make chicken runs to the spot where her seed lay hidden beneath the hard packed earth. At best, two drops would fall over her seed's bed. The rest of the water either went down her throat during the run, or fell out of her opened beak and down her feathery chest. It was enough though.
After about a week and a half of watering, the first green sprout made it's way to the open air of the barnyard. At the very moment Henny witnessed this wonder, her eyes widened to such an extent, a small, high pitched sucking sound began emitting from her right eye. The sound is best understood by comparing it to a balloon whose air is allowed to escape by making a tiny 'vagina' out of the end of the balloon (take thumb and forefinger of both hands and pull the mouth of the balloon in opposing directions).
This one-of-a-kind phenomenon was born into existence when Henny's eyeball extended far enough out that it began to literally pop out of it's socket. The space behind her eyeball, which became open to the atmosphere, led directly to her tiny chicken brain. This sucking, or vacuum, has to do with the negative pressure of the air that surrounds Henny's (and every other chicken's) brain. That negative pressure usually serves the sole purpose of holding a chicken's eyes in their sockets. In this case, with the tiniest opening appearing behind her right eye, Henny's vacuous cranium began taking on air.
Now take, if you would, the position of an onlooker. Let's say you're strolling in a leisurely way around the barnyard and happen by the back of the chicken coop. You might not be looking in that direction at the time, but the strained 'squeeeeeeee' of Henny's eye will cause your ears to perk up. You'll almost jerk your head in that direction, as this sound is most unexpected in a place like this. You see Henny with her wings slightly raised away from her plump chicken frame, as if she was balancing on a high wire, some 70 feet above the ground. She appears enamored with something on the ground at her wiry chicken feet. There is something off kilter, other than the fact that this chicken is standing stock still and appearing dead on her feet, that you won't have time enough to realize. At least, that is, until it's too late. Quite suddenly the squeaking you are hearing takes a turn on the path of a negative parabola, quickly dropping off to a sighing breath. It's at this point, Henny's right eye falls from it's socket, the umbilical connection flailing behind for the ride. There is no longer a vacuum working in Henny's favor. When the right eye is halfway through it's fall, the left leaps out in it's own suicidal bungee jump from the socket it had, until this day, called home. And worth note, in all of this, not the slightest peep escapes her yellow chicken's beak.
Henny Penny stands as you've seen her now for the last minute or so (or did this all take place in seconds?). Except now her eyes are dangling lazily from their stalks. There's isn't the slightest of breezes and soon, even the movement of the eyeballs ceases. Now witness Henny, as she pitches forward in snapshot form. One moment she's erect, and the next, she's face down in the dirt. Her left eye socket lands squarely over the small green bud that happened to be the single cause of this bizarre scene.
So what happened? She's dead. Henny Penny is stone dead. When the vacuum around her brain suddenly equalized to atmospheric pressure, she went through a death similar to surfacing from deep water too quickly. Something akin to the bends had occurred. This still might not have been the cause. It's quite possible Henny died from sheer joy. Her heart may have stopped well before her eyes left their sockets. I'd like to think this was the true end that Henny saw. Instead of the stomach lurching scene she would have seen, were she still conscious when her eyes took the dive and jing-jangled about. For those eyes were still quite attached and they would surely have still been taking in light through their retinas.
You see, Henny never did make that load of bread. I tend to think those other animals weren't really friends of hers. Seems plausible to me that once word of that grain stalk got out, for sure as I sit here typing this account, some animal's hoof would have "I'm sorry Henny, didn't see that there. Looks like I've squashed it flat.", put the plant back into the ground it came from. Seems to me, this was the best ending this story could have had. You might not have liked the vision of her standing there with eyes lollying about, but you must be able to see the pivotal moment for this clucky bird. Besides, even in the story of the Little Red Hen, if you turn to the page where the grain is growing, let us be quite frank.... there wasn't anywhere near enough grain to grind down into enough flour with which could make an entire loaf of bread. Also, there's other shit you need to make bread with, yeast being one of them, and this bird was in no way equipped to collect all of these items. That plus locating an oven and WORKING the fucking thing... That story is full of shit and it hurts even my poor little chicken brain to think of it. Oh, I didn't tell you? I'm a chicken. Sorry for not sharing that earlier. It's of little consequence and honestly is none of your noodle-nosing business.
Anyway, wasn't there some moral in all of this? Well, yes. Henny Penny was an extremely hard working, ingenious, and focused chicken. Some would say she was the Wonder Woman of the Hens. She understood that it took work in to get something (fun, food, results..) out. Henny Penny should have been more of a hero, but the previous person who took a stab at her autobiography kind of sucked out. That, and like I said, the fucking name is awful. It was painful every time I wrote it. Even HP (eeeesh) makes me cringe.
Look, if you've got kids, get engaged. Make them do stuff. I don't know what stuff. Anything. Try the Cool Hand Luke method. Give them a shovel and have them dig a hole. Then when they've gotten a good ways in to the ground, come over and tell them to fill it back in. Rinse and repeat. Kids are growing up getting more and doing less. They're expecting it to come to them on a platter. Well for Christ's sake, if you're bringing it to them on a platter, at least get halfway to them with it and "accidentally" trip and throw whatever it is on the ground. Then have them pick it up so they've at least worked for it somehow. Also, have them clean the platter for next time. Right? I mean, like the thankfully still living Mugatu said, "Doesn't anybody notice this? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! I invented the piano key necktie, I invented it! What have you done, Derek? You've done nothing! NOTHIIIING!" Just replace Derek with "Kids these days". :)
P.S. Henny Penny (uggh) is still very much alive. I didn't lie, but I didn't exactly tell you the whole truth. Some other time then, no?
Henny Penny stands as you've seen her now for the last minute or so (or did this all take place in seconds?). Except now her eyes are dangling lazily from their stalks. There's isn't the slightest of breezes and soon, even the movement of the eyeballs ceases. Now witness Henny, as she pitches forward in snapshot form. One moment she's erect, and the next, she's face down in the dirt. Her left eye socket lands squarely over the small green bud that happened to be the single cause of this bizarre scene.
So what happened? She's dead. Henny Penny is stone dead. When the vacuum around her brain suddenly equalized to atmospheric pressure, she went through a death similar to surfacing from deep water too quickly. Something akin to the bends had occurred. This still might not have been the cause. It's quite possible Henny died from sheer joy. Her heart may have stopped well before her eyes left their sockets. I'd like to think this was the true end that Henny saw. Instead of the stomach lurching scene she would have seen, were she still conscious when her eyes took the dive and jing-jangled about. For those eyes were still quite attached and they would surely have still been taking in light through their retinas.
You see, Henny never did make that load of bread. I tend to think those other animals weren't really friends of hers. Seems plausible to me that once word of that grain stalk got out, for sure as I sit here typing this account, some animal's hoof would have "I'm sorry Henny, didn't see that there. Looks like I've squashed it flat.", put the plant back into the ground it came from. Seems to me, this was the best ending this story could have had. You might not have liked the vision of her standing there with eyes lollying about, but you must be able to see the pivotal moment for this clucky bird. Besides, even in the story of the Little Red Hen, if you turn to the page where the grain is growing, let us be quite frank.... there wasn't anywhere near enough grain to grind down into enough flour with which could make an entire loaf of bread. Also, there's other shit you need to make bread with, yeast being one of them, and this bird was in no way equipped to collect all of these items. That plus locating an oven and WORKING the fucking thing... That story is full of shit and it hurts even my poor little chicken brain to think of it. Oh, I didn't tell you? I'm a chicken. Sorry for not sharing that earlier. It's of little consequence and honestly is none of your noodle-nosing business.
Anyway, wasn't there some moral in all of this? Well, yes. Henny Penny was an extremely hard working, ingenious, and focused chicken. Some would say she was the Wonder Woman of the Hens. She understood that it took work in to get something (fun, food, results..) out. Henny Penny should have been more of a hero, but the previous person who took a stab at her autobiography kind of sucked out. That, and like I said, the fucking name is awful. It was painful every time I wrote it. Even HP (eeeesh) makes me cringe.
Look, if you've got kids, get engaged. Make them do stuff. I don't know what stuff. Anything. Try the Cool Hand Luke method. Give them a shovel and have them dig a hole. Then when they've gotten a good ways in to the ground, come over and tell them to fill it back in. Rinse and repeat. Kids are growing up getting more and doing less. They're expecting it to come to them on a platter. Well for Christ's sake, if you're bringing it to them on a platter, at least get halfway to them with it and "accidentally" trip and throw whatever it is on the ground. Then have them pick it up so they've at least worked for it somehow. Also, have them clean the platter for next time. Right? I mean, like the thankfully still living Mugatu said, "Doesn't anybody notice this? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills! I invented the piano key necktie, I invented it! What have you done, Derek? You've done nothing! NOTHIIIING!" Just replace Derek with "Kids these days". :)
P.S. Henny Penny (uggh) is still very much alive. I didn't lie, but I didn't exactly tell you the whole truth. Some other time then, no?
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