Guess What... Chicken Butt

     I think we can agree... there is a deep awful that lies in the voices of those who squawk rather than sing. Some people know they don't have great voices, and they usually spare our ears the displeasure of their sour sounds until birthdays and holidays where they're drowned out by other horrendous honks. And what's better than the zoo-ish racket of a solid family gathering? Well your answer may be different, but I'd say absolutely nothing.
     The problem is when a gaggle of squawkers (made worse when elderly) get together and chirp a once giddy ditty into a now grim hymn. It's not unlike walking into a chicken coop and smashing a few pots and pans together. Chickeny madness. And not even the good kind.

 

     I'm talking warble central. Warble galore. Making sounds so assaulting, they might even be called Warbling Warriors. And if you still don't know what I'm talking about, just think of the last time you saw this video.

 

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     So now that we have that all settled, it's time for the real story. My family has been noticing the chickeny nature of such groups for a while now. Jokes of calling Perdue or grabbing the feed bag to quiet their hunger cries are just natural by now. However, the best comment by far came from my paps when we were seated directly behind the hens. It was a quiet affair and we were encouraged to keep as quiet as possible out or respect. The choir got up every once in a while to sing a tune and then sat back down. Towards the middle of the ceremony, they stood up to perform another number. My dad turned to us and said, "Guess what?" He then went back to facing forward where we were confronted with an overwhelming display of... you guessed it... Chicken Butt.