wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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The Enforcer

Hi Folks! This is King Goldie Sr. speaking. While little Prince Goldie Jr. is over there charming Bossie Betty and enjoying a warm dust bath, it’s up to me to keep the ladies in line. Not only do I have to make sure their henhouse gossip doesn’t get out of hand, but I’m responsible for their welfare in every way.

I make sure to sound the alarm if predators come around, so they can all run for cover.

I make sure there’s no “bock-bock-bock bickering” going on.

And yes … sigh … it’s up to me to make sure they eat right. They all have to get their fruit and vegetables or they won’t be up to the work of laying the best eggs in my kingdom.

So come on, my pretties, eat your veggies. You can scratch for grain any time, but these special veggies are a real treat. And if I hear any bickering, I’ll remind you to look at the enforcers on my legs. But don’t worry. They’re mainly to defend my kingdom, not to hurt my ladies. Just “cock-a-doodle-do” as you’re told.

Pretty nice set of enforcers, don’t you think?

Ladies! Ladies! Stop the squawk!

All I hear is “Bock-bock-bawk.”

Dinner’s served and it won’t last,

Want your veggies? Get here fast.

 

Stop the bock-bock-bickering,

Stop your silly dithering,

Veggies, leafy, green, and good,

Healthy fare, it’s understood.

 

I’ll stand guard so you can eat,

Cabbage, celery, and beet,

In the morning you will lay,

Eggs of quality, I pray.

 

As for me, I have my job,

While I pick at this corn cob,

But if danger here occurs,

I’ll protect you with my spurs.

 

 

 


32 Comments

Bossie’s Depression

“Prince Goldie,” said White Betty. “Just look here.  First rays of sunshine this year, and I think Bossie Betty is depressed. She’s dug herself a hole so deep she’ll never get out. Can’t you make her get up?”

“She doen’t seem to be listening to me. Not paying attention to the pecking order at all,” Goldie said. “I tried crowing and she just scrunched her eyes shut and ducked her head down.”

“Ooooh! That’s bad, if she’s ducking. She doesn’t even know she’s a chicken anymore. Well, that’s just ducky! I give up on her. I’m leaving.”

“Aw, c’mon! Don’t chicken out, Betts. We can’t just leave her there.”

“Don’t you worry, my pretty Bossie Betty. I’ll stay with you. Right here in this nice sunny spot … ahhhh…. Oh, this is ni-i-i-ice. No wonder you didn’t want to move,” crowed Goldie. “So warm! And the earth smells so wonderful, so dry and aromatic after a winter of wet muck. Yes, I could get used to this.”

 

“Would you like to go bowling, Goldie?” Bossie asked.

“Bowling?”

“Yes. Dust bowling. It’s like a beautiful bath and the sun warms you at the same time.”

“I see what you mean, Bossie.  Ah yes, it’s fit for a prince. Better than playing in a mud puddle, that’s for sure.”

*****

The chickens squawked out a rhyme today:

After weeks of muck and rain,

Icy cold, depression, pain,

I can see the sun again,

Winter doldrums start to wane.

 

Nothing like some rays of sun,

Pecking grubs outdoors is fun,

Tasty food for everyone,

Sunshine ’til the day is done.

 

Bathing in a bowl of dust,

Getting cleaner is a must,

With my hairdo I have fussed,

Now it’s cleaner, only just.

 

We are happier today,

Sun is out and we can play,

Hope that this will be the way

Sunshine finds us every day.


35 Comments

The Egg Family

Father, Mother, and Junior have egged me on to do this post about them. My ideas were a bit scrambled and I didn’t know eggzactly what to do, but I poached this idea from a long eggo post.

The sunny side up about this whole thing is that the yolk is on them because I’m the one having the fun.

You may notice that the big daddy of all eggs is green with envy. He wanted to be like the others, but his wife, the mother egg, got browned off with all his complaining.  Her baby is browned off too, but as it turned out later, he was all bluster on the outside and runny guts on the inside. Father Egg always said Junior was coddled too much, but he still gave him his benedict – shun.

“Remember that we’re all the same on the inside. Our outer shell may be different but, for better or worse, we’re all whites on the inside,” Father Egg said.
“Yeah and a bit of yellow belly. That comes from being destined to be a chicken,” Mother Egg said.

Father Egg said, “I know I should never have left Denver and the other omelettes. You are the most deviled egg I’ve ever met. I know you think that was a wise crack you made, but in the end that crack will be your demise.”

“Fiddle faddle,” said Mother Egg. “Trying to be so hard boiled. You really are just a shell of a man.”

“Be careful, Mother,” said Father Egg. “You think I’m just over easy, but I know egg-I who was too eggcitable, and was always foaming at the mouth until his people had the idea of whipping him up into a lemon meringue pie.”

“That won’t happen to me,” said Mother Egg. “I’m just going to set here and write my memoirs. Someday omeletters will be in the museum archives and I’ll be famous. Junior can help me.”

“Oh no,” clucked Junior. “I’m too much of a chicken.”

“All right,” said Father Egg, “It’s time for some more yolks. Did you hear the one about the guy who went into the restaurant and asked what the specials were. The waiter said, “I recommend the cold tongue sandwich.”

“What?!” the guy said. “Me? Eat something that someone else has had in their mouth?”

“Oh, pardon me,” said the waiter. “Well, let’s see. How about an egg then?”

And so it went until they all cracked up and took a flying leap into the frying pan.

It turned out that big daddy turned out to be twice the man anyone thought he was. Here he is in the bowl. He had an eggstra yolk to tell, but we never got to hear it.