This summer, I did some kick-ass, awe-inspiring, next-level gardening. I grew colossal, shiny, orange pumpkins. PUMPKINS, you may scoff at me smugly in a judgy way - any monkey could grow pumpkins, but I would have to retort, “Yes, pumpkins.” I grew these fine specimens in a freaking FLORIDA SUMMER, AND these pumpkins were so magnanimous that Linus would beg to have them in his pumpkin patch because they were sincere AF.
After displaying my freakish colossal shiny pumpkins for a few weeks, I decided to bestow them upon my chickens. I looked it up on Pinterest, and, OH, let me tell you, the pictures were lovely. I saw beautiful coops with gorgeous chickens being enchanted by pumpkins, and these Pinterest pumpkins were far less attractive than my pumpkins, so I decided to do it.
Now, my pumpkins were so massive that my slender arms could only carry one out at a time. I took my first colossal, shiny pumpkin to the middle coop and presented it to my chickens right in the middle of their coop. I was giddy for them, giggling. I went back to grab the second colossal, shiny pumpkin, and when I stepped out of my house, I could hear my chickens in distress. They were all so loud. I thought they were all laying eggs (at the same time), which was why such a cacophony was accosting my tranquil farm. HOWEVER, when I made it to the coop, I witnessed all the chickens in the middle coop in the back corner, nearly stacked one on top of another like a chicken totem pole—trying to be as far away from my glorious pumpkin as possible. They hated my gift. I was crestfallen.
I shed one small tear and looked at the coop on the right. The coop I was about to bestow an even larger, shinier pumpkin mimicked the middle coop chickens in their own chicken totem pole formation. At this point, I didn’t care. I plopped the gigantic, orange UFO right in the middle of the coop and marched off.
Ungrateful chickens. My coops looked nothing like the doctored Pinterest photos I viewed an hour earlier.