Choices
Harry did like he always does, kissing his wife, crawling into bed and falling to sleep. All of a sudden, he wakes up with an elderly man dressed in a cowl standing in front of his bed. "What the hell are you doing in my bedroom? And who are you?" he asked.
"This is not your bedroom," the man replied. "I am St. Peter, and you are in heaven."
"WHAT!?? Are you saying I'm dead? I don't want to die, I'm too young." said Harry. "If I'm dead, I want you to send me back immediately."
"It's not that easy", said St. Peter. "You can only return as a dog or a hen. But you may choose."
Harry thought about it for a while, and figured out that being a dog is too tiring, but a hen probably has a nice and relaxed life. Running around with a rooster can't be that bad. "I want to return as a hen," Harry replied. And in the next second, he found himself in a chicken run, really nicely feathered. But man, now "he" felt like the rear end was gonna blow.
Along came a rooster. "Hey, you must be the new hen on the farm," said the rooster. "How does it feel?"
"Well, it's OK I guess, but it feels like my rear end is blowing up."
"Oh that!" said the rooster. "That's only the ovulation! Have you never laid an egg before?"
"No, how do I do that?" Harry asked.
"Cluck twice, and then you push all you can."
Harry clucked twice, and pushed more than he was good for, and then 'Plop', an egg was on the ground. "Wow," Harry said. "That felt really good!"
So he clucked again and squeezed. And you better believe that there was yet another egg on the ground.
The third time he clucked, he heard his wife shout:
"Harry, for Gods sake wake up, you're crapping all over the bed!"
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