They tried to make me eat today.
I can’t eat.
I can barely hold my head up.
Please just leave me alone.
yesterday and today
Sorry for the dramatics yesterday.
I was in terrible pain.
Maybe I should tell you about myself.
I am Beryl, pronounced barrel. Adopted three years ago with my twin sister Babs when our humans Christopher and Jennifer one day decided they wanted fresh eggs.
Babs and I are Orpington hens with strawberry blonde feathers and bright red combs like cherry tomatoes. My fluff— the bits around my bottom — are really blonde giving the illusion of soft, frilly underpants.
Jennifer says we’re camel-colored.
I say camels are me-colored.
Christopher built a spacious coop with a roost and three little nest boxes so we can lay eggs in private.
He’s wonderful like that.
He even stocks it with fresh alfalfa hay. We love alfalfa.
It’s tasty and scratchy and smells like hills and sunshine.
I suppose our eggs pleased the humans, because then Wanda and Missus Jenkins came along.
They were a lot smaller, and looked way different from me and my sister. But we didn’t mind. A few months later, Wanda popped out a blue egg! Jenkins’ eggs are brown like ours, thank goodness. That chick doesn’t need another reason to feel superior —but more about her later.
Between us now, we lay 20 eggs a week! I especially like when Christopher collects them.
Good girl! he smiles, pronouncing it gull, sneaking me toast.
May I tell you a secret?
I’m not sure I’ll ever lay again.
Chickens don’t lay under stress.
And what happened to me was stressful.
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Meanwhile, have you shared this with your grumpy co-worker yet?
You can send it to your whole team so no one’s feelings get hurt.
But everyone will know who you mean.