What do you get when you cross a chicken and a vacuum?
A blonde is walking down the street and a car pulled up next to her. The man in the car says to her, ''What do you have in the bag?'' The blonde replies: ''I have chickens!'' The man thinks for a moment and says, ''If I can guess how many chickens you have in the bag, can I have one?'' The blonde thinks that it sounds fair and replies, ''Okay, but I'll make the bet even better! If you can guess exactly how many chickens I have in the bag I will give you BOTH of them!"
"May I take your order?" the blonde waitress asked. "Yes, how do you prepare your chickens?" "Nothing special sir," she replied, "we just tell them straight out that theyre going to die."
A chicken walks into a library, goes up to a librarian and says, "Book book book." The librarian decides that the chicken wants a book so he gives the chicken a book and the chicken walks away. About ten minutes later the chicken comes back with the book, looking a bit agitated, saying, "Book book book." The librarian decides the chicken wants another book so he takes the old book back and gives the chicken another book. The chicken walks out the door. Ten minutes later the chicken comes back again, very agitated, saying, "Book book book!" so quickly it almost sounds like one word. The chicken puts the book on the librarians desk and looks up - waiting for another book. This time the librarian gives the chicken another book and decides that something weird is happening. He follows the chicken out the door and into the park, all the way to the pond. In the pond is a frog sitting on a lily pad. The chicken gives the book to the the frog, who then says, "Reddit, reddit."
When my daughter, Brooxie, was 5 years old, she’d stay with my husband’s parents while we were at work. One day Brooxie was helping Papaw gather eggs.
While putting the eggs into the basket she was carrying, she asked, “Papaw, where do these eggs come from?” Papaw then explained in detail the delicate process of making an egg. Brooxie put her hands on her hips and exclaimed, “Papaw, I don’t eat anything that comes out of a chicken!” And for many years, she didn’t.
Several years ago we headed to a nearby town to visit some relatives. I had a new car and was having fun driving fast on the twisty country roads. As we zoomed along, I noticed a three-legged chicken keeping pace with me. I slowed to get a better look at the speedster when it turned and went down a dirt road. I stopped, turned around and followed it. After a short ride, we came upon a house with an older couple sitting on the porch and dozens of three-legged chickens in the yard. I asked them, “Are these your chickens? They’re the fastest I’ve ever seen.” The old man said, “Yep.” So I asked him where they came from, and he replied, “When the kids were younger, they always fought over the chicken legs, so we decided to breed a three-legged chicken.” I nodded and said, “Well, they are fast, but what do they taste like?” He admitted, “Not rightly sure; we never could catch one.”