“You are a chicken!”
Mrs. Curmudgeon was standing on the lawn yelling at a cowering creature.
“You’re a chicken understand? Just accept that you’re a chicken.”
She wasn’t getting her point across. The creature looked confused.
“All your friends are dead. But not her. See her?” Mrs. Curmudgeon waved toward ‘fluffy the chicken’, one of our better free range chickens. “She knows the score.”
She wagged a finger accusingly.
“Be like Fluffy. It’s for you own good. Be a chicken.”
The creature looked up at Mrs. Curmudgeon…
Eventually the duck figured everything out. Later I caught on. I’ll explain next post.