Monday, May 15, 2006

Mrs. Hensley Gets Laid

I'm generally four square against the debauching of reluctant virgins, but in the case of Mrs. Hensley, it may turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

Those of you following the unfortunate barnyard saga of our broody hen will recall Mrs. Hensey as the Pinnacle of Avian Morality. She's nothing like her slutty sister, Bedelia.

Bedelia is like a doorknob; she gives everyone a turn, and can regularly be seen giving it up to multiple roosters in the dust wallow behind the thornless blackberries. Mrs. Hensley has steadfastly refused the roosters' attention and - despite their ardent pursuit - has always managed to elude them long enough to maintain her virtue.

But alas, her chastity has not brought her any closer to getting what she really wants - a brood of chicks. Infertile eggs don't hatch, they just go bad. This past Saturday, Mrs. Hensley finally abandoned her second rotting clutch, flying off the nest with a squawk of sheer despair.

But, as fate would have it, her descent brought her right in the path of the Worst Sort of Rooster, a swaggering brute named Randall Cock - Randy for short. I won't go into the unseemly details; I'll only tell you Randy Cock nailed Mrs. Hensley with such masterful efficiency that I was forced to shield the goslings' eyes from the spectacle.

I expected Mrs. Hensley to be traumatized, especially given her vocal protestations. So imagine my surprise when later that same afternoon I found her not ruffled and dazed, but flouncing around the same brutal cad and clucking flirtatiously. It seems even in the animal kingdom females are drawn to the Bad Boys.

So there you go.

OK, so Mrs. Hensley can forget being inducted into the National Organization for Feminist Hens, but at least she can finally look for some fertile eggs as a result from an activity that was obviously a lot more enjoyable than she ever anticipated. And she may find that a little hen can be a wanton while still being a virtuous mother.


Shrubbery said...

You're raising nymphomaniac must be so proud.

Morgan said...

It's not nearly as disturbing as looking out my window and seeing the roosters playing lacrosse.

Shrubbery said...

Not until the DNA comes back

Morgan said...

They don't need DNA. There was a witness. I saw it all. Mrs. Hensley just refused to press charges. She's too smitten with Randy.

tc said...

For Mrs. Hensley:


Morgan said...

ROFL, Tom. Now I can serenade the happy couple.

jcw said...

Are you complicit in this Morgan? Did you "accidentally" leave some of your rough drafts where Mrs Hensley could read them?

Morgan said...

Come to think of it, jcw, I did find one of my drafts scattered among the thornless blackberries last week.

Ironically, it was the story of a pious virgin...

It began: Dear reader, I've a naughty little tale to tell, plucked from the pages of history--
tarted up, true...

The story concerned a lovely and pure farm girl who - despite the debauchery around her - maintains her virtue. She's saving herself, you see, for matrimony. And motherhood.

But she doesn't count on the lusty farmhand who's been eyeing her for
months. The strapping, swaggering fellow is particularly impressed with her full breast and other unexplored attributes.

The pious farmgirl is on her way to deliver some eggs one day when she's set upon by the lusty farmhand.

"I want you," says he.

"No," she says.

"Yes," he counters, and throws himself upon her.

"No!" she cries, but it is too late. The farmhand is not to be denied, especially once a quick feel discerns that her pious protestations are just a cover for her wantonness.

"Please. Don't. No, wait, let me help you," the farm girl says and emerges later with a rosy glow and a knowing look.

And then they live happily ever after in a little country house with a well-worn copy of the Karma Sutra and a brood of lovely children.

I'd decided the draft wasn't fit to print, so I tossed it out. I didn't realize it had ended up on the ground. And as God is my witness, I had no ideas that chickens could read.

Morgan said...

P.S. Anyone who can catch the reference to one of my favorite movies in that last post wins a prize.

mitzibel said...

Heh. You referenced "Quills", you naughty lass. I think. Maybe I'm just a pervert. Yeah, I've got most of the Marquis' dialogue memorized, too, and am breathlessly awaiting those lazy French-reading bastards at Project Gutenberg to get around to posting the rest of the real libertine's writings, although, to be perfectly honest, I have yet to be very turned on by the accounts of schoolgirls pissing on old men. Ah, well, at least I'll always have the one-handed read in the back of Bust. . .

And that was the funniest damn account of chicken sex I've ever read. The only account, mind you, but still the funniest.

Morgan said...

Clever girl!

I just put up a post about your prize, be that as it may.
Yes, the Marquis did have some bizarre tastes, but his work is entertaining. I'm probably the only mother who reads Justine at on the park bench while the kids are playing. I get a bit tired of the philosophical stuff, though, and just skim them to get to the debauchery.

I did recently get a book of his letters but haven't had a chance to read them yet.

I'm glad you enjoy reading poultry porn. There will be more, I assure you. The goslings are coming of age.

JohnR said...

Nice work Morgan!!

Chicken sex in the morning and then I had to protect my innocent sons from the dragonfly sex in the park this afternoon.

And the wife won't be home for several hours!!

DeSade, huh.

How do you square the erotica with his belief that everything was permitted; incest, murder, rape.

DeSade was a monster.

Why do you think the French call 'orgasm' the 'little death.'

By the way, I came to these conclusions long before I became a Christian.


Morgan said...

JohnR, while I find DeSade's work intriguing, I don't agree with his entire libertine philosophy.
He was very extreme.

But the biggest problem I had with him was that he was as rigid and unaccepting of alternate viewpoints as any fundamentalist, and seemed unable to abide that hedonism should not be the societal standard.

And this is just what I gathered from reading Justine!

The real DeSade was a *lot* different than the conflicted character in Quills.

Morgan said...

"Why do you think the French call 'orgasm' the 'little death.'"

I always thought it was because I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven.

Morgan said...

JohnR, one more thing. National Geographic had an excellent article in a recent issue about dragonfly sex. It is apparently among the most brutal in the animal kingdom. If your man chews a hole in your head, you might want to think about a vow of chastity.

prettylady said... SO FUNNY. Subversive, but funny.

Pity I require more than a pile of straw for raising my theoretical chicks, or all the Bad Boys in my life would have brought me everlasting bliss.

Morgan said...

Yes, Pretty Lady. The world is full of Randy Cocks. Most of them are only good for fertilizing your eggs. And then crowing about it.

That may be enough for Mrs. Hensley. But it will never do for sensible human females.