On the Audible Tendencies of a Rubber Chicken
While attending to matters in my study, as it were oft to be known, I found myself enamored with a rather catchy little number of the bubblegum pop variety. As to the reasoning behind that particular tune being audible within the privacy of my study we shan’t allude. As it were, this particular melody was a rather uplifting jaunt to which had been applied the percussive qualities of a rubber chicken.
At the, shall I say, somewhat shocking, revelation of the musicality of that particular childhood toy, I was taken aback. In a rather short time, however, a thought had occurred to me; an idea to which I was surprisingly well inclined. Now, I, being the gentleman my Mother had so painstakingly reared, knew it prudent to notify my then-fiancé of this wondrous development.
Upon reception of the missive advising her of the developments of the evening, she was understandably confused. I believe her first utterance was that of an exclamation to the Lord above. The befuddlement must have overtaken her motor skills for it was nothing short of a full 10 minutes before a reply was received. This reply, being composed of that perfect balance between brevity and observation, read simply, “but, we don’t have a rubber chicken.”
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