“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 Bob. “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. The choice is your own.”
Bob 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,” Bob replied.
And in the next second, he found himself in a chicken run, really nicely feathered. But now he felt like his rear end was gonna blow. Then along came the rooster.
“Hey, you must be the new hen St. Peter told me about,” he said. “How do you like being a hen?”
“Well, OK I guess, but it feels like my ass is about to explode.”
“Oh that!” said the rooster. “That’s only the ovulation going on. You need to lay an egg.”
“How do I do that?” Bob asked.
“Cluck twice, and then you push all you can.”
Bob clucked twice and pushed more than he was good for, and then ‘plop’ an egg was on the ground.
“Wow” Bob 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 ol lady shout:
“Bob, for Christ’s sake! Wake up! You’re shittin’ all over the bed!”