What Came First, the Chicken or the Egg?

15 01 2009

by: The Rooney

rooster-and-barnFirst of all, what a great question. In fact, this could be the best question ever asked of mankind. But, just like with anything else, someone always comes along to answer the unknown and make sense of the whole thing. That is where I come in…..

To begin, it is important to note that male chickens are often referred to as roosters and, more ironically, as cocks. Therefore, this question becomes quite simple really – the chicken came first. You see, the chicken that started it all just so happened to be a male chicken, just like in the beginning of biblical times there was only one man, Adam. However, this chicken would not find himself high-stepping about in the garden of good and evil, but rather in a hot, red barn surrounded by hay and manure. So, here we have the image of a lonely cock pinned up inside a red barn with no friends or rising suns to cock-a-doodle-do at. Unfortunate, I know. But, don’t worry, the tide turns for our little feathered friend.

The chicken, who I like to call Breaston, awoke one early morning to find the “old barn door” opened and swinging about as the wind blew across the open plain. Alas, Breaston’s dream to escape the foul, dark, and dingy old barn he had inhabited since the day his little heart began to beat had finally become a reality. He walked right out of the barn and into the light of day, delighting in the warm sunshine and the crisp breeze that blew under his tail feathers. Immediately, Breaston was blinded by a metal spinning object in the sky – the weathervane. He didn’t know what it was about the weathervane that he found so attractive, but Breaston stood and stared at that weathervane for hours. It was like he found his Mecca, his calling, his purpose for life, and he would stop at no costs until he reached that weathervane. On the 41st night, Breaston stood atop the pitch of the silver tin roof of the old red barn, just steps away from the weathervane that had taunted him for so long. He approached and mounted the weathervane with such ease, as if it were meant to be. The moon was glowing brightly and Breaston knew it was only a matter of hours before his inaugural doodle do could be cocked.

Three hours and fifty two minutes later, Breaston looked to the East and saw the orange-pink glow over the horizon; and then, the first glimpse of that big ball of burning gas. It was the most beautiful thing Breaston had ever seen. Living his whole life cooped up in a dingy barn, Breaston could have never imagined the incredible emotions he was feeling at this moment, and he let out the most curdling, most startling, most glorious doodle do he could summon. Breaston couldn’t stop, he just kept doodling and doodling as the sun rose ever so slowly over the horizon. Just before the sun had fully risen, Breaston quieted for a brief moment to enjoy the beauty before him, and then inhaled for one last yell. As he let his final ode to the new day reign out, Breaston sensed a wave of euphoria race through his little chicken body. He had reached his climax. Breaston christened the weathervane that morning, and then fell off the weathervane to his death. He didn’t accomplish much in his short life, but none will argue that Breaston indeed went out with a bang.

Scientific research suggests that Breaston’s excrement had boiled in the mid summer sun atop the rusty tin roof that day, and rust properties from the roof bonded with the reproductive cells of Breaston’s DNA, thus forming the first batch of eggs – twelve to be exact. So, if anyone ever raises this question around you, just tell them the story of Breaston the chicken. If they’re smart, attentive, understand chemical bonding, and have a sense of humor they’ll understand that the chicken truly came before the egg.

 

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