It seemed like a typical night for Tom as he crawled into bed, kissed his wife, and fell asleep.
Suddenly he awoke with an elderly man dressed in a white robe standing in front of his bed. “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” 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 Tom. “I’m begging you, please send me back!”
“It’s not that simple,” said St. Peter. “If you choose to go back, you can only return as a hen.”
Tom thought about it for a second, and decided that being a hen was better than being dead. “Fine, I’ll go back as a hen,” Tom replied.
In the next second, he found himself nicely feathered in a chicken run, but now he felt like his rear end was going to explode. Along came the rooster. “Hey, you must be the new hen on the farm.” he said. “How do you like it?”
“Well, it’s OK I guess, but it feels like my rear end is blowing up.”
“Oh that!” said the rooster. “That’s because you’re ovulating. I suppose you’ve never laid an egg before. Just cluck twice, and push all you can.”
Tom clucked twice, and pushed more than he was good for. There was a plop, and a fresh egg was deposited on the ground.
“Wow,” said Tom, “that’s amazing! It felt really good too!”
So he clucked again and squeezed, and there was yet another egg on the ground.
The third time he clucked, he heard his wife’s voice shout, “Tom, for Christ’s sake, wake up! You’re shitting all over the bed!”
