Chapter One: The Heist, continued

The chickens—they’re the ones who start all this. To be fair, it isn’t their fault. They simply do what chickens do. They lay eggs. Surely, they have no idea that these particular eggs on this particular day will change everything—how dare you suggest it! Why? Do you see their heads tilted to the side, looking for Hannah again? Yes, it is certain those chickens have been getting rather devious as of late, but to suggest they plotted this whole thing just to get Hannah to themselves is preposterous! We will not even discuss it. They lay their eggs and that is that.

The neighbors arrive, as neighbors so often do. Only on this day they stop at the coop. Did the chickens call them? One can never tell. It certainly is possible. But that simply will not do. That is a Guess. Let us focus only on Facts. And the Facts are this: On every other day, the neighbors pay that coop no mind, but today they stop. They stop and peer into the coop and see a fresh warm egg. They take it. And what does one do with a fresh, warm egg? Why, throw it at the side of the coop, of course. It is simply the way it is done. At least that’s what those who know about such thing say. That’s how it happens, anyway. They take warm egg after warm egg and smash them against the coop.

The chickens watch, heads tipped to the side. Do you see that one smile? Yes, a smile indeed.

And so, the stage has been set. The Farmer arrives home and sees his coop, the one he made from those pallets he brought home from work—you remember, don’t you? You remember how carefully he pulled out each nail, knowing that leaving them would hurt one of his chickens-to-be? Now, the Farmer must know that warm eggs are to be thrown, but that doesn’t seem to make any difference. He simply shakes his head and says, “This place is too tight for us.”

His Wife sighs, knowing he is right. “The house isn’t ready to sell,” she says, reminding him of the roof that needs fixing.

The Farmer gets right to work fixing this and that. It won’t be long, and they will be ready to call the company that sells houses and tell them to sell theirs.

And that’s just what they plan to do, honest it is, at least until the letter comes.

It’s a normal letter, typed on normal paper, and this is what it says:

Dear Neighbor,

I noticed what a fine job you’re doing fixing up your house. My dad likes it, especially. He would like to live there, if you don’t mind.

                             From,

    Your Neighbor from the Next Road Over

The Farmer’s Wife runs and shows the Farmer the letter. He reads it twice. “Can you believe it?” he asks in wonder. Just then a chicken walks by, head tipped to the side.

The chicken believes it.