The chickens provide fodder for tall tales in Fortress Mamea.

Yesterday, the Goddess returned home late and asked, “Did anyone feed the chickens?”

The Children Teens ignored her aural query, preferring their online and cellular communications. I allowed the pause to lengthen until I finally said, “They were picketing with signs demanding No GST on Fruit and Veges and $15 Minimum Wage NOW, so I confiscated the placards and fed the buggers.”

The Goddess gave me a gentle peck of thanks. “A simple yes would have sufficed.”

Where’s the fun in that?

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