Sunday, January 07, 2007

eight eight eight

 It occured one morning at the heavenly gates. St. Peter looked up from his ledger to find a wild duck, a battery farm chicken and a carrot standing in front of him.

"Well, how did you die then?" asked the saint while the guardian angels looked on suspiciously with their flaming swords half drawn from their carbon fibre sheaths.

"I had a nice life," said the duck, "I lived in a protected area and once a year there was a lot of noise but it never did me much bother until..."

"Yes?" said St. Peter.

"...I found out the noise was connected to something called a shotgun and wouldn't you know it? I ended up shot?"

"Very good, welcome to heaven," said St. Peter, "now what about you two hmm?"

"I lived my life in misery and darkness, laying eggs and being fed growth hormone and antibiotics until I got too ill to lay eggs and then horrible things happened to me involving electric prods, cutting tools, boiling water and sharp metal teeth, I suppose I should be upset about it but strangely I don't seem to mind," said the battery farm chicken.

"Being upset requires glands, ma'am, and as you are deceased, it is only natural you have left your glands behind, I'm sure you won't trouble yourself, and what about you?"

"I was just hanging around with my family when something pulled me by my leaves and before you know it I was plonked on a wooden cutting board and cut up, totally defenseless!" said the carrot.

"Welcome, welcome, all three of you welcome, one last question before you all enter heaven," said St. Peter, "due to the large volume of traffic we receive in heaven, should it become necessary for you to be reincarnated, any requests?"

The duck, chicken and carrot looked at each other while thinking about each of the stories they had heard.

"I wanna be a duck!" they said in unison.

"It's way better than how I lived my life," said the chicken.

"You're telling me bub," said a young cow suitable for veal who'd just arrived.

Very good, said St. Peter, Welcome to heaven!

They passed the heavenly gates.

Gropius in 12 lines times 4 words

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