Do the Funky Chicken

Hi, I'm Hattie the Hen. I have traumatic story to tell. It happened one Sunday afternoon. I was minding my own business looking for bugs and eating some weeds. One of Pop and Grammy's grandsons (I'm not going to say which one...I'm not looking to slander here...I just need to tell my story) wandered into the yard. I ran up to him thinking perhaps he had some tasty treats for me. That's when things went terribly wrong. Next thing I knew he had a hold of my tail feathers and I was flying around in a circle. I like to party as much as the next gal but a funky chicken dance in the air was not what I had in mind. Luckily for me Farm Chick arrived home. She looked in my direction and initially panicked because she thought I was attacking him. Can you imagine? Why in the world would I bite a kid. When she got closer to the situation she realized I was being held by my tail feathers and swung about. "STOP!" She yelled. When the wild ride came to an end I gathered up what was left of my feathers and dignity and headed for the hills.

Editors Note: Upon questioning the grandson involved admitted that he was only trying "to make an egg come out." Well there you go.