My mind reals with contemplation of revenge.
This morning I went to do my morning rounds with the animals, and checked the chicken house. There were only two eggs there. I thought, “What the heck. Where’s my windfall?”
Then I went outside and there is Ronnie (who is building our barn with his two sons) grinning at me.
“I guess Mark didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I really didn’t want to know. From that smile, I had a good idea of what was coming.
Apparently, he bought a flat of eggs and HE was the gremlin putting them in my chicken house for the last two days. He said after the day at the flea market, he couldn’t resist. I’ve been so “enthusiastic”. (A nice word for “naive”, I’m thinking.) I have been complaining about my chickens not laying, true, which dangled an irresistible opportunity to toy with a city slicker.
The story he told me about Guineas making chickens lay more was a set up.
He laughed and said, “I never dreamed you’d really fall for it. You seem a smart girl most of the time . . . for a city gal. You didn’t really believe a game bird would effect the laying of regular chickens, did ya? That don’t make no sense.”
“Who me think Guineas inspire laying? Of course not. I’m a chicken expert. I wouldn’t fall for such malarkey.”
What can I say? I fell for it hook line and sinker. And apparently, this amused Ronnie to no end. And Mark, who was in on it, didn’t bother to tell me last night as I went on and on about the eggs I collected that day, even as Neva and I tried guessing which eggs came from which of our beloved chickens. Well, there you have it -I married a rat fink.
Of course I fell for it. My chickens are six months old and they are SUPPOSED to be laying by now. Beside which, it isn’t often you expect outright poultry deceit from a friend WHO IS A PREACHER!
Now, I didn’t just tell you about my eggs. I told everyone I came in contact with yesterday. I was proud, don’t ya know. It was BIG news in Hendryville.
So, I went to the coffee shop to tell Denver the trick Ronnie played. I had boasted quite a bit to her yesterday, and even brought her a half dozen eggs as a celebratory gift.
She thought this a hoot – practically rolled on the floor laughing and said, “Well, I’m glad to see you have a friend who can a little right back at ya.”
So much for daughterly devotion in the form of empathetic outrage over my loss of innocence. I vowed I wouldn’t give HER any more eggs …. especially since I won’t have any to give.
So, if you come to my house, I won’t make you eat eggs. And those eggs I do get are already spoken for. I’m gonna THROW them at Ronnie.
He said, “I hope you aren’t mad. I was afraid you might get mad.”
“Me mad? Over eggs? Couldn’t happen. But do be afraid Ronnie.” I looked at him out of the sides of my eyes, “……Payback is a bitch.”
“Uh Oh,” he said with a chuckle.
So, I will have to put away my quiche recipes until another time, now that I have egg on my face rather than in my chicken nests. I guess it is all a part of the learning curve…. Speaking of curve, since an egg isn’t exactly round, does that effect aim?