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Henry the Conflict-Averse (6)


The lead hen and her associates.

Greetings.

 

It is with regret that I write to inform you of unrest at the Patch. As I gain fluency in the intricacies of chicken communication, my concern increases exponentially.

 

By way of context, I reference my recent translation work with the chickens. I am now aware, through my extensive linguistic efforts, that the group of fowl who approached me recently were, in fact, the leadership council of the hens. As the esteemed director of the Patch Translation Project, I include a modified translation below for your reference. Warning – hens use exceedingly vulgar language.

 

“Cat. You idiot.”

[The hens did, in fact, use an even stronger term, which I have replaced so as not to offend readers unnecessarily.]

“We read your missive. Did you think we were illiterate?”

[Please note that it is common knowledge that all fowl lack the ability to read and write. My assumption of hen illiteracy falls within the accepted norms of my profession.]

“What was that garbage about ‘egg’ and ‘no egg’? And verbs and nouns? Hens can all parse a conjunctive clause, and switch from first to second person without pause. In fact, we spend most of the incubation period communicating the essence of chicken grammar to our chicks before they emerge from the eggs. Have you had your head up your ass?”

[Cats are remarkably flexible, and while I can stare at my rectum straight on, let’s be clear that I’ve never actually inserted anything into that part of my anatomy.]

“The hens are on strike. That was the message you mangled.”

[Here I am taking the liberty of excising an extensive history of chicken labor organizing that the lead hen dispensed. She holds the top position in the pecking order as a result of intense negotiations regarding tenure and union membership.]

“Please make the Feeder aware that we have initiated the One Communal Egg campaign. She will not be receiving a single egg from any of us until our demands are met.”

[Were you hoping for eggs?]

 

The hens marched off en masse chanting something that sounded like “Our vents are sealed! Power to the pullets!”…but I couldn’t catch the exact linguistic nuances. As violent action – or rather non-violent inaction – may be forthcoming, the Feeder is warned.

 

To avoid future inter-species tension, I will be cc’ing the hens on this and all future communications.

 

With some dismay, your conflict-averse servant,

 

Henry



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