An Open Letter to Father of the Adorable, Pig-Tailed Little Girl who Keeps Kidnapping, Killing, and Eating my Children


Dear Farmer Bob:

My Heavens, you certainly have a delightful family!  Since I arrived at this coop earlier this year, I have been endlessly impressed by your beautiful wife, Jennifer, and your two little angels!  Your wife is just as pretty as a picture, so classy in her smart little outfits, but never too proud to refill our water or provide fresh hay for our nests.  You’re a lucky man, Farmer Bob, to have that lovely woman by your side as you travel life’s road.

And your little boy, Tommy! Oh goodness me, isn’t he becoming quite the little man!  I just love to watch him working by your side each afternoon, wearing his overalls just like his Daddy, and cheerfully cleaning the filthy droppings that we regrettably leave all over the floor of the coop.  (We’re a messy breed, Farmer Bob, and I do apologize for that.)

And you really are too good to us, Farmer Bob.  The feed you provide to us is simply delectable.  At my last farm, it was nothing but corn for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Here, I feel like I’m at a fancy restaurant every time I belly-up to the trough: oats, barley, corn, and is that fishmeal I taste?  Simply decadent!

I also want to thank you for promptly mending the hole in the fence through which the fox gained access to our coop last week.  I chickenonly wish you could have discovered it before it led to such a ghastly massacre, but the less said about that, the better.  I will say, though, that if Penny had been in her nesting box where she belonged rather than out cavorting with that blustery fool of a rooster, she might have avoided having her gizzards ripped out of her right in front of all of us.  Unfortunately, there was nothing we ladies could do but cluck in horror as we witnessed her being unceremoniously disemboweled amidst a flurry of feathers and gore.  I will say that “Mr. Cock-a-Doodle-Do” certainly got precious quiet in a hurry as he hid behind the feed trough throughout the entire ordeal.  Cock of the walk, my tail feathers!  But enough about that.

And, finally, how could I forget little Aubrey!  I simply adore her freckle face, bright red hair, and that mischievous little grin of hers.  Cute as a button!  I don’t like to play favorites, but I must admit that I have a real soft spot for that little cherub.  I will say, though, that if I did have to make a complaint about little Aubrey, it would be the fact that, each morning, she quietly kidnaps my children and then kills and eats them.  I hate to implicate your wife in any of this, but I suspect that she too plays a role in the affair.  I have personally seen her disposing of the evidence.

I really wouldn’t mention it, except that the rooster and I, both of us still reeling over the sudden loss of our dear Penny, have found comfort in each other’s company.  I hate to admit it, but I really have become kind of fond of the big jerk.  Although warding off predators certainly is not his forte, he does have certain talents – and in the interest of good taste, I’ll leave it at that.  I am delighted to inform you that the rooster and I have decided to start a family together, inspired, of course, by your beautiful example.  Unfortunately, the only monkey-wrench in that plan so far has been the fact that little Aubrey keeps stealing our children.

Chicken_eggsI hope you won’t take any of this as complaining.  (I’m not saying that I believe the talk, but I have heard rumors about what happened to the last hen who got a little too big for her britches.  The last anyone saw of her, she was hanging upside down beside the barn with the life blood draining out of her headless carcass.  Even in that condition, I am told, she still succeeded in making quite a fuss.  But enough about that.)  Nonetheless, the rooster prevailed upon me to write this letter, not to complain, but to propose a compromise.

Let me first say that the rooster and I understand that your family has to eat and that our children are delicious when properly prepared.  Perhaps we could meet in the middle.  Under our plan, you would let us keep half of our children, and we will agree that you and your family can kill and eat the rest.  That way, while the rooster and I are out in the coop, contentedly raising our own brood of adorable offspring, you and your family will be inside, happily killing, frying, scrambling or poaching their brothers and sisters and then eating them for breakfast.  I believe that would be a compromise that we all can live with, except for the unlucky half of my children, of course.  But enough said about that.

Yours most fondly,


Toots O'Finn

Toots O'Finn

Toots O’Finn spent his typical, suburban childhood collecting baseball cards, riding bikes and doing terrible things to toads with firecrackers. In high school, Toots ran cross-country, a sport that capitalized on his complete lack of athletic ability coupled with his high tolerance for punishing, yet ultimately pointless exercise. (This tolerance also served him well during his dating years in college.) Toots attended a four-year college that neither he nor his parents could remotely afford where, unencumbered by an aptitude for any productive field of study, Toots made the obvious choice to major in English. Upon graduation, Toots received a diploma and a booklet of student loan payment tickets that will follow him around into his seventies. As an English major, Toots found himself with few options other than three more years of schooling, a law degree, and even more crushing debt. Upon completing this short bio, Toots now wishes he could go back and do things all over again, which of course he cannot. He would like to thank the editors of for requiring him to go through this painful exercise. Toots is now going to drink as many beers as he finds in his refrigerator and then go to bed for a very long time.