One morning after Christmas, my husband and I woke to get ready for work. We showered and dressed. I stood in the kitchen and talked with him while he made his lunch and then he left for work. I watched him back out of the driveway and putt off down the road. I went back to the bedroom to finish my face and hair. All of a sudden, I hear the sound of a rooster crow.
At first, I figured that it was my daughter’s alarm clock. It makes that sound as an alarm. I went to her room to investigate the noise and found she was in the shower. Deciding that it was my imagination, I went back to my room.
A couple minutes go by and I hear the noise again. Only this time it was definitely louder and outside. I open the back door and stick my head out to see if I can tell where it is coming from. I hear it again! “Who the hell would live in the city and buy a rooster?” I say to no one. “Mrow” is the answer my cat gave me. He had heard it too and was helping me investigate.
I snorted and shut the door. Kitty meowed and ducked behind the curtain to keep watch. I went back to my room muttering something about having a chicken dinner if I caught it in my yard.
Twenty minutes or so had passed and it had gotten bright enough to silence the offending cock-a-doodle-doer. I continue to mutter to myself that this is not going to be good. I hate to get woke up before it is time and I knew that my husband would be livid.
The kids started to meander around the house getting ready for school and I asked them if they had heard this rooster. They all told me that they hadn’t heard him. Great! Now I have an evil ninja rooster that only I and the cat can hear apparently.
Later in the day, my husband called me and I asked him if he had heard the rooster when he left this morning. He said, “No I didn’t hear any rooster.” Hmm, well maybe it was just me then, well me and the cat apparently, but he had little to say about it.
Well, the day went on and I forgot about the rooster until the next morning. My husband was going to get to sleep in a little bit because of fog. Little did we know, the evil rooster had his own ideas. I get up at my normal time and start my morning routine. I am in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I hear it.
Very loud and very clear, it was the evil rooster. I open the bathroom door and whisper as if the rooster was going to hear me, “You heard that, right? I know you heard that!” He lifts his head off the pillow. COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOO! The rooster crowed several times. My husband slides his eye mask to his forehead and sits up.
He looks at me and I raise my eyebrows and point to the back yard. “No way!” he exclaims and stomps to the back door. He opens the door and listens. The cat is right there with him. “Mra” kitty whispers and looks outside too.
My husband stomps back into the bedroom and slams his feet into his flip-flops and walks to the garage mumbling obscenities which I shall not repeat here. I hear him stomping back and opening the back door.
I look outside to see my now very angry husband tromping around in the back yard in his boxers and flip-flops with a silver eye mask on his forehead which reads ‘ just 10 more minutes’ on it, brandishing some sort of stick he acquired from the garage. Watching this sends me into fits of laughter.
My usually sane hubby has now morphed into the evil ninja chicken hunter as he stealthfully tiptoes around the back yard. My hubby lowers his stick and turns to stomp through the pine needles back to the house. I retreat to the bedroom to compose myself before he comes in.
I hear the door open and then I hear the rooster crow again. ER ERER ERER! My husband turns around and yells “SHUT UP!” to the rooster and slams the back door. I try to hold in the laugh but it snorts out through my nose and I begin laughing again.
My husband looks at me with his mad face as he comes back into the bedroom to try to recover his last few minutes of sleep and I cover my mouth trying not to laugh. He looks away and snickers too. “This isn’t funny man! I should call the cops on that dumb chicken!” he said as he slammed himself back onto his pillow.
I finally get myself under control enough to say “Well honey, I don’t think our neighborhood is zoned for chickens.” Tears from laughter begin to pour down my face. I apologize to him because I know he is upset, but I can’t stop laughing.
He gets a smirk on his face and slides his mask over his eyes. The rooster crows again. My husband yells “AAARRRGH” he slides his mask up and grabs his phone. He is grumbling thru gritted teeth as he dials the police station.
The lady answers. This is how the conversation goes from my husband’s end.
“Yeah, are we zoned for chickens?”
The lady speaks.
“No, a chicken. What it is, one of my neighbors who’s back yard is adjoining to mine has apparently got a chicken for Christmas or something and it is going ER ERER ERER every morning and I wanna know if since that we are in the city limits if we are zoned for chickens.”
There is a pause and the lady speaks again.( I can only imagine that she is trying as hard as I am at this point not to laugh.)
“Yeah, a chicken.”
“So you’re gonna check that out for me and call me back? Because I have to get up in a minute because it is a workday but I don’t wanna hear ER ERER ERER on Saturday when I am trying to sleep in because of some dumb chicken. “ he gives her our address and his cell number.
“Okay, good. Thank you.”
And that was the conversation.
I am almost ready for work, finally, after reapplying my mascara for the second time and I go over to kiss him on his head and tell him it will be okay. They will surely send the cops to arrest the chicken. He only grunts. I got this mental image of a chicken marched out to the squad car in handcuffs and a muzzle on his beak and it made me giggle.
Well, later that day I get a phone call from my husband who excitedly tells me we are indeed not zoned for chickens and that the code enforcement officer will be going out to seek the chicken’s whereabouts. I congratulated him on his ripping victory over the evil ninja rooster.
Mornings have been silent ever since.