Sometimes, when you think love is not hearing your call, you get a voice mail response stating 'I hear you, stop calling! I was in the shower!' - Benny Hana.
This is a true story of such a call, as noted in the infamous, yet bemusing, prehistoric scrolls called
The Flindermann Papers. Please enjoy.
There was silence in the barnyard
The once raucous chickens had stopped clucking
And no one knew why...
They appeared limp, and droopy
The farmer could not figure out the conundrum,
Nor could the evangelists that had taken up residence on the farm
'They appear to be gelatinous' exclaimed Hermie Lechmueller
'Gelatinous! You're crazy, Hermie!' replied the farmer,
But he knew it was true.
When the crowd of people took a lunch break,
From staring at the listless chickens,
The farmer made his move!
He began ironing the chickens,
On permanent press, to increase their firmament...
They did not respond.
The townsfolk returned from their lunch break,
And once again noticed the chicken's unsteady posture
'They look pretty wiggly' stated Lechmueller's girlfriend, Muleina.
The farmer became despondent.
He had a irregular crush on Muleina since he was a young boy,
And his loins were aflame...and he wasn't even sure what the loins actually were
'Um...farmer, your pants are on fire in the front there' stated Muleina.
But the farmer did not hear her.
He was fixated on his lumps of chickens...and his smoldering loins...
And his love for Muleina...
'Why must my chickens be so infirm??!! He cried at the top of his lungs!
(He had a big statue of his lungs that he liked to stand on when he was yelling lamentable remarks toward the Heavens).
'And who set my loins aflame??!!' He screamed!
But just as the farmer decided to leap to his death from the giant, four foot lungs, he heard a voice.
'Do you have any chicken marmalade?' came a voice like an angel's.
The farmer looked down as he was plummeting in a free fall from the enormous lungs,
And saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen standing there! She was holding a pie, labeled Chicken Marmalade Pie, that was mostly just crust, and maybe some spilled chicken feed.
Realizing that he was plummeting toward his death, but now had a reason to not plummet in such a manner, the farmer twisted in the air, like an Arabian acrobat, and snuffed out his fiery loins on the ground by landing on them.
As he got to his feet, he said in a particularly high voice:
'I do have chicken marmalade. I have raised these gelatinous chickens all of my life, simply so one day, I could bequeath them to you for your pie', as he gently placed a gelatinous chicken in her pie, although he wished he had not used spray starch when ironing them, but she did not seem to notice the stiffness of the particular gelatinous chicken, as she was fixated on his loins.
'Well, that was nice of you', stated the mysterious, yet pie bearing girl. 'But why are your loins smoldering?'
'They're smoldering for you!' cried the Farmer, seizing his chance to create a beautiful, endearing pick up line, from a previously embarrassing loin activity. 'Will you marry me?'
'Ummm...are they going to be completely extinguished by the honeymoon' queried the Girl with pies.
'They will NEVER be extinguished as long as I'm near you...you've got a flamethrower pointed toward them' retorted the farmer.
'OK, let's do this then' agreed the pie woman, and they lived happily ever after.