Where is the thanks she deserves for keeping all the animals alive in the absence of Farmer H? Not forthcoming, that's for sure.
Don't let Mrs. Hillbilly Mom be railroaded toward a conviction! If a trial is called, make sure that you do not shirk your civic duty. Show up bright and early on jury selection day. Campaign for a slot like Gracie Lou Freebush going after the crown at The Miss United States Pageant. And DON'T settle for Miss Congeniality!
Here is the crime of act or omission that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has been interrogated about:
Yes. That is Farmer H's prize birdbath. He bought it at the auction, of course, and not very long ago. It is a beloved perch for Farmer H's chickens, who do not seem to put any stock in my calls from behind the living room window that it is NOT a chicken bath, and they should hop down forthwith.
As you might imagine, the birdbath held water much better when the rim was not chunked and laid inside itself. Nobody seems to know when this damage occurred. Farmer H demanded to know the weather forecast during his absence.
"Did we have high winds here while I was gone?"
"I don't know. There were 35 mile an hour winds the other day. But I don't remember which day."
"Did you see what happened?"
"No. I do not sit and watch the birdbath. Those chickens are in it all the time. I am not in the habit of sneaking peeks at fowl in the act of bathing. Maybe your turkey was feeling less than fresh, and decided to bathe."
"The whole top of it is in the rock garden. Broken."
"That's too bad. I'm sure you can find another one."
Seriously. The time for bathing has ended. He has all winter to find another birdbath. It's not like his chickens are going to go all Woodstock on him and put on a little stocking cap and skate around the birdbath.
You might notice the details on Farmer H's birdbath. It's made to look like a log, with a squirrel scampering up the side. That's my sweet, sweet Juno's butt in the foreground, and a couple of white chicken bathing beauties in the background. I know that Juno's back looks wide and Ann-like from this angle. The camera adds ten pounds, you know. Besides, Ann has coarse fur and carries her tail high, whereas Juno's silky tresses shine like those of a Miss United States, and she carries her tail low, like a proper lady.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom will have her story straight by trial time. She will not be hoisted on her own petard. Just because she cheered the leg lamp destruction scene in A Christmas Story does not mean she acted inappropriately with the birdbath. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom will answer questions under cross examination. She already has her defense in order.
"I don't know nothin' 'bout bathin' no birds."
3 comments:
I think this was all part of your helter-skelter scheme. Destroying the bird bath. Throwing pizza around in the T-hoe. I wonder what other pranks and antics were part of your girls-gone-wild (you and Ann and Juno) weekend?
He will blame poor sweet Juno! You must take the fall for her!
Sioux,
It was SO HARD to stay out of The Little Barbershop of Horrors. Farmer H put a floor down, and painted it. Oh, how the doggies wanted to lay on that smooth, smooth surface, and jettison some superfluous fur and burrs.
*****
Kathy,
ACK! He WILL blame my sweet, sweet Juno! She never jumps up there like his fat chickens.
Maybe I can tell him I leaned over to admire my reflection in the feather and fowl feces dotted water, and my hands pushed too hard on the edge, and...well...I was lucky not to sever a pinky toe and need someone to rush it to the hospital in a Cracker Jack box full of ice on a New York City bus, while MAKING ALL THE STOPS!
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