“Good morn …”
“NOT!!!”
“Je-heeez, dude! What the …”
“What ingenious idiot said it’d be ok to keep chickens in this neighborhood?”
“Chickens?”
“Don’t tell me ya ain’t heard the crowin’?”
“So yer hacked off ’bout the crows. Leave the chickens outa this.”
“Huh?”
“Crows crow, dude. Chickens chicken. Or somethin’ like that.”
“What-ever! Do they haveta do it at the crack a dawn?”
“Nothin’ chicken ’bout that neither. Matter a fact, it takes …”
“Dude. Yer not helpin’.”
“I’m Dude! That’s twice this month. Ya gettin’ Alzheimer’s ‘r somethin’?”
“Tell ya what I ain’t gettin’ these days, dude.”
“Yeah?”
“Enough sleep!”
“Nah. Really? Dunno what ya c’n do ’bout them crows, dude. What does a cockle doodle do, anyhow?”
“They don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I ain’t never heard one a them roosters do this ‘cockadoodledoo’ thingy. Might almost be tolerable if’n they did. But nah. It’s more like Ehhn-a-oo-AAAAeeehn. Don’t they have like a crowin’ school, an’ did all of these dam roosters flunk out? I mean, did they even, like, go?”
“Self-preservation, dude.”
“Ya reckon?”
“Yeah. If they went, they’d be murdered. I’d be too chicken ta do that.”
“Whoah. Harsh. Murdered?”
“It’s a crowin’ school, dude. Ta join, ya gotta join the flock. An’ a flock a crows is a murder.”
“Du-UUUUUUUDE!!!“
Go back to bed and stay there. Really.