And it probably serves me right that I laugh so hard I pee myself a little.
Childbirth.
Ugh.
But also, as soon as Jonas realizes what’s making the noise, his face goes full-on horrified. “Yolko Ono!”
He dives for the quilt.
Yolko squawks like she’s possessed by the devil.
Jonas yanks the quilt, and there she is.
My pretty white silkie, rolling out of the quilt like a bowling ball.
An angry, squawking, molting, beaked bowling ball.
Jonas gapes at me through the flying feathers.
And I am not okay.
I’m not.
I’m squeezing my legs together to keep from wetting myself more while I laugh so hard that tears stream down my face.
Yolko Ono jumps to her foot, shakes out her feathers, looks at Jonas,ba-GOCKs once, and then—
And then my chicken charges him.
Hopping.
On one foot.
Faster than I’ve ever seen her move in her entire life.
“Stop,” I gasp.
“I didn’t mean to,” Jonas yelps at the chicken as he dodges her.
“BA-GOOOOOOOCK!” she yells back, flapping her wings at him.
He vaults onto the couch.
She hops straight into the side of it, knocking herself over, then bounces back to her one leg and tries again.
He looks at me.
She looks at me.
I’m on the floor.
I’m absolutely dead on the floor, in the middle of a swirl of chicken feathers, unable to stop laughing.
“Mama?” Bash says behind me. “Dodo Ono otay?”
Yolko Ono answers herself with a loud squawk and a fluff of her wings.
“It’s like Fiji,” Jonas mutters.
