I may idealize chickens. My grandparents had some when I was very young, and I have no negative memories associated with that time and apparently that’s all it takes for me to form an opinion that will never, ever change. But I can’t be wrong about this because clearly, all chickens are wonderful.
Now that we have the Sneer HQ, there has been talk of maybe getting a few hens for the back yard. They could help us garden, I assume, and provide us with breakfast supplies. At the very least, there is a nearby park and community garden that has chickens on the premises, so I can visit them and listen to their inquisitive clucking as they ask who I am and why I am not throwing feed their way.
My friend in today’s comic was raised on a small farm in Nova Scotia. She has spent many years around chickens, and yet remained skeptical throughout our chat. Maybe I should take her doubts seriously, or at least allow for the possibility that chickens as housemates and friends aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
Impossible. I am the one who is right on this matter!