The three ruling hens sat atop their shed. Claudia, a Rhode Island Red, said, “I don’t know why we can’t have more than one rooster. I could use a little more romance.”
Matilda, a Bantam, scoffed, “Honey, that’s not romance, that’s that dang rooster pushin’ us around when he wants somethin’. Besides the rancher don’t care if our eggs are fertilized or not and two roosters would mean fightin’ between ’em.”
Beatrice, the Barred Plymouth Rock, replied, “Be glad we got us one rooster, the poor donkey over there thinks the llama is going to show ‘im some lovin’. Friendship yeah, but that’s it.”
Claudia answered, “Talk about unromantic, the horses and cows get a long gloved arm to make ’em pregnant, got nothin’ to do with romance at all; it’s got to do with blood lines and makin’ the rancher more money.”
Beatrice clucked, “Speakin’ of the rancher, he could use some romance. He’s been kinda’ crabby since his kids won’t help run the place and his wife ran off with that guy who shoed the horses.”
Matilda expounded, “I told ya that would happen first time the farrier jumped out of his truck and the missus got a good look at him, even at their age.”
Claudia speculated, “I heard the rancher talkin’ with the vet about some carrot ranch. Is that a new place nearby?”
Beatrice answered, “Na, that’s a place he sends his writin’ to.”
Matilda asked, “What-a-ya mean sends?”
Beatrice explained, “On the silver thing he calls a lap-top. He does his writin’ sittin’ on the porch, then hits the submit button with a big smile.”
Matilda looked thoughtful. “Well maybe those writers should all get together in one place. I’ll bet one or two of ’em would find some real romance.”
In response to prompt; ranch romance from Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch Literary
Sue Spitulnik 