Bob stumbled home inebriated one evening, slipped into the bed next to his peacefully slumbering wife, and succumbed to a profound slumber.
To his bewilderment, he awoke to find himself standing before the celestial gates, greeted by none other than St. Peter himself. “Bob,” St. Peter proclaimed, “you passed away in your slumber.”
Bob was dumbfounded. “Dead? No, that can’t be! There’s so much I still want to do. Please, send me back!”
Regrettably, St. Peter responded, “I’m sorry, but there is only one way for you to return, and that is in the form of a chicken.”
Bob was devastated, yet he implored St. Peter to send him to a farm close to his home…
In the blink of an eye, he found himself donning feathers, clucking away, and pecking at the fertile ground. A confident rooster sauntered by. “Ah, so you’re the new hen, eh? How’s your first day on the farm?”
“Not too bad,” answered Bob, the transformed fowl, “but there’s a strange sensation brewing inside me. It feels like I’m on the verge of exploding!”
Understanding the situation, the rooster explained, “You’re ovulating. Are you trying to tell me you’ve never laid an egg before?”
Bob confessed, “Never in my life.”
“Simply relax and let nature take its course,” advised the rooster nonchalantly. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
Bob followed the rooster’s counsel, and after a few discomforting seconds, he laid his first egg! Overwhelmed with a flood of emotions, Bob relished in the marvels of motherhood. He soon laid another egg, and the sheer joy was indescribable.
Just as Bob prepared to lay his third egg, a sharp smack landed on the back of his head, accompanied by his wife’s irate voice exclaiming, “Bob, wake up, for heaven’s sake! You’ve just shit the bed!”