One question: How do you call that sound that rooster makes? Is it really Cock-a-doodle-doo? Really? Come on! In my language it sounds more serious. And yet, maybe because we live on the ruins of an Empire that was saved by couple of geese (heheh, this is also funny) and used peacocks like an alarm for intruders (peacock is also funny). Yes, I meant The-Biggest-Most Badass-Brutal-And- Conquering-Roman Empire. We were part of it. Sort of. We helped ruin it. Yeah… It was fun…
Anyway, my story has nothing to do with peacocks (hehehe, peacocks), geese (God, who makes up these words?) and Roman-I-Secretly-Wish-It-Was-Galactic-Empire. It is actually about a rooster, German shepherd and my grandmother.
Note: I need to clear some things right now. My grandmother lives at the country. Alone. She has a couple of goats, chickens and this rooster. Also we bought her a German shepherd that anything but fearsome. It chickens out a lot. So she has only chickens and goats. And a rooster.
So the story goes like this: It was a day after Easter and… F**k this! Wait, let me start from the beginning. Me and my brother were spending Easter with my grandmother. And she has that rooster. It’s pretty much domesticated. You can pet it, play with it, it follows you everywhere. To me, that is interesting, but not to my grandmother. You see, every time she goes to feed the goats, that rooster goes inside the stables and makes that sound that roosters make (I can’t write it once more, because I will die of laughter). The thing is, that building resonates. A lot. And that drives my grandmother insane. So, for Easter, while the whole family was enjoying the resurrection of Christ, my grandmother bursts into the room holding our rooster by its legs and demanding that my father takes the ax and kills the rooster. She had it enough.
Of course, my father, being that my grandma is his mother-in-law, has no option of saying no. But I do. I started protesting, like, “No, you can’t kill that poor animal! Look at him, Dad, he is so cute! You are a monster!” Didn’t help at all. So he places him on the stamp and raises the ax… And then…
My mother yells out of the kitchen: “I am NOT cleaning that mess up!” That was the most hilarious scene I saw that day. My father lowers the ax and puts the rooster in a “cage” (it is the basket from the freezer we are not using anymore) and puts the stamp over the “cage”. After that, my parents return to the city, and we are left with our grandmother. Now, I already said that it is Easter, and that is the only day in year I visit the rest of the family. So we go around the country and eat candies and all stuff (I bet you are jealous right now). And I have to say, while we were out there, having fun, eating candies and chocolate (I don’t care if you are jealous, you probably are), our dog, the famous German shepherd, had fun on its own.
We don’t know what happened, only thing we know is that, when we came home, we saw the “cage” lying on the floor, stump far away from there and a couple of feathers. Yes, our dog attacked the poor rooster. My grandmother was pissed of. Although she said that she hates that animal, she actually likes it. So ,she starts cursing the dog on Serbian, Romanian and French language (I didn’t know she knew how to do it) and calls a vet to kill our dog. I never saw her so furious in my life. We know she needs to cool down so we send her to the goats and tell her we will take care of it. While she is cooling off, we call our parents and tell my Dad that we have to take the dog to the city. Not good… And then our grandmother bursts in (second time that day) and tells us that the rooster is alive. He is in the stables, a little distressed, but fine. Yay!
She returns to the stables and me and my brother go outside to enjoy the beautiful day. Oh, God, this is the funniest part of the story…
We hear the rooster making that sound from the stables the loudest he can make it, and our grandmother runs out of the stables cursing again, half deaf from it. She calls our neighbor to come over tomorrow and kill the f-ing rooster. There is no need to say my brother and me had a straight face for good ten seconds before we started laughing.
The conclusion: The rooster is fine, dog is fine, everyone is happy, except my grandmother. 🙂
Best. Easter. Ever.