We went to visit Al's brother, Simon, who lives in the backwoods of Washington. One of Simon's grandkids named the smallest of his laying hens, Sandy. Simon likes to joke and this followed :)!
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"I'm glad you came today,"
Simon says.
"Just will long will you stay?"
Simon says.
We are all sitting at his table talking,
"Sandy," he says, "lays an egg now and again."
Don't hear what he said, but wear a fat grin.
"If you must know, she's a big, fat, red hen."
Still sporting that grin, laid another one then.
"Are your animals pets?"
Sandy said.
"A dog, ducks and a hen?"
Simon says.
I never ask Simon, "What's in the pot?"
We'd been driving for hours. I was hungry ... a lot!
Whatever it was, it was filling, hot.
"Let's go pet Sandy?" I gasped and said, "Let's not!"
"Come on, let's go outside!" He went in a trot!
"Take a load off your feet!"
Simon says.
"That was rattlesnake meat!"
Simon says.
My stomach leaps! "This winter those hens won't peck.
As much as I hate it, I'll wring Sandy's neck!"

Catching those words, my grandson zoomed to the deck.
"Uncle, sometimes her jokes stink, but what the heck?
Grandpa and I won't let you wring Grandma's neck!"

SandraS.Corona.2004