If I see a Rooster on the Road, I'm Going for it

I hate roosters more than anything in this world. By the grace of God, this is our last night in Roosterville. We move to a money condo a town over this afternoon and the good news is that these hellish birds are far less frequent there. I woke up at 4:30AM in order to get some extra work done prior to the move and was hoping to get some quiet time. Mr. Pecker and his cohorts had other ideas. It is now 6:15 and as I am typing this, 3 roosters in the yard are having some type of yell-off. One nutbag does his thing and then the other two respond in kind. What the hell are they accomplishing? What purpose does screaming at the top of your lungs in pitch black darkness serve? If I had a rifle and night vision goggles, I could think of at least one.

I don't know this girl but something tells me that we could be friends.

I think God is listening to my rant because it just started down pouring. I hope Mr. Pecker drowns. I pray that this is my last reference to these beasts because I am truly starting to lose my mind. I should be working but instead I am posting a diatribe about a 25-inch tall bird.

I'm the kind of guy that slows down or beeps if I see a pigeon or squirrel on the road. If I see a rooster, I'm going to floor it and hope to hear a startled, shrieking cawk followed by a dull thud.