As I write, the house still smells of cinnamon and cake. Grace was in the kitchen all day yesterday baking up a number of scrumptious things to celebrate her sister's birthday, and for a day of giving thanks. I still
more tomorrow; so I have to make this short and sweet.
After re-reading all the stories last night (left in comments for this post), I kept coming back to one. The story of Henry, the shoe-fetish Quasimodo ROOSTER! It really tickled my funny bone. The story goes as follows::
"I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your furry friend. I've been there myself, and I truly sympathize. Now for a funny story....
Growing up, everyone in the neighborhood knew we were the family with a weak spot for unwanted critters. We ended up with a wide variety of stray creatures over the years, including the infamous Henry.... An eighth grade class at the local school had raised a rooster as a science experiment. Now that they were done, they needed to find a home for him. The cage in which they had kept Henry had caused his feet to become deformed so he walked sideways with a limp in a very quasimoto-like fashion. In addition to this, he was more than a little neurotic and had some behavioral issues. My Nana was a sweet and compassionate woman, so, of course we took in Henry and gave him a new home.
Henry was an interesting creature, and soon began to run the social empire that was the pet population of the back yard. He decided the garage was his, and defended it vigorously against intruders, both animal and human alike. It was soon discovered that Henry was also very amorous, and had an unnatural fetish for shoes. Anytime a person walked out the door and attempted to enter the garage, Henry would come hobbling sideways with his wings spread wide and proceed to get frisky with the offender's shoes! Needless to say, all of us ladies and children were terrified of Henry and gave him a wide berth...
The problem was, the extra fridge and freezer were in the garage and we often needed access when there were no men folk around to venture into the fray. A creative solution was needed, and finally found. We collected old shoes in a basket near the garage door. When we needed something from the garage, we would throw a shoe to the far end and wait until Henry ran to make his romantic advances on it. As soon as he was otherwise engaged, we would run in as fast as we could and grab what we needed. We were always sure to make a speedy exit. The highlight of the weekend for us kids was watching Papa go into the garage with his work boots on to collect all the shoes. Some of my earliest memories are of him in the garage with Henry clinging to Papa's feet for dear life, clucking and flapping away. Henry went on to live a very full Rooster life in the garage. Despite his early life in a rotten old cage, he was happy in his own way, and fancied himself to be quite the ladies (well, shoes) man. I always think of him fondly whenever I see roosters, and remember how much color he added to my childhood days."
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So, Kristy my dear, CONGRATULATIONS you are the winner -- my book will be on its way to you pronto! Thanks every body for participating and sharing your funny stories with me. It was a blast reading through them and it really brightened our days. Here's a funny for you. . .
H a p p y T h a n k s g i v i n g !