email us firstname.lastname@example.org
The Capon Breast Fable
by tommy kirchhoff
Three weeks after he broke through his eggshell, a young cock was castrated. At the very same time, something unusual happened; the sun and the moon came together in a lunar eclipse, then parted again. When the new capon emerged cold and nutless from the barn, he looked up into the sky and saw only this celestial bosom staring back at him. Though the capon should have been robbed of any sexual desire, the image of these gigantic tits filled his mind with passion. Dazed from having his cream crackers freshly cut off, he staggered for a moment, then fell unconscious for a day and a night.
The next morning, the capon awoke to the rising sun and crowed as only a rooster can. He scratched the ground and strut around until a marvelous feeling shook his little feathers.
All the creatures on the farm awoke to the capon's jubilation. The hens rushed out of the henhouse to speak with him. The mother hen told the capon that he should not crow when the sun comes up; she explained that the job of waking up the farm was for virile, adult roosters. The other hens nodded in agreement; they all knew the capon's billiard game would never get a shot.
The young capon plead that he could not help his actions; the sun excited him so much that he just lost control. The mother hen warned the capon that this would make him go blind-or worse yet, get him into much trouble. The capon agreed not to look at the sun, and bid the hens good day.
The capon walked gingerly over toward the garden. There he saw a perfect pair of melons sirening for his attention. The capon looked around, then back at the melons. Then he let his glances turn to a stare. These melons began to excite him, so he called out as only a rooster can.
A beautiful songbird came down from a tree and told the young capon to have shame. But the capon wasn't chicken; he told the songbird that these perfect melons had to be fake, and that their display from behind the vine-leaves was an invitation to look at them. The songbird shook her head and began to fly away. She warned that the melons were as real as the sun and the moon, and that this rude behavior of crowing and scratching would certainly get him into trouble.
The capon went to the backside of the coop to be alone. He thought about what the hens had said to him, and what the songbird warned of, and found himself worrying about what would happen to him if he didn't stop. He glimpsed over to the front porch of the farmer's house and spotted a giant pair of jugs. These jugs were truly grand; and each had a little round spicket that glistened in the morning sun. He moved closer to get a better look.
The capon glanced down at his feet then back at the jugs. He became fretful about the trouble that await him. But he couldn't stop. He peeked, and peeked again. One last look at the amazing jugs, then he made a decision to look no more.
He diverted his eyes, only to have them stumble upon a nice set of knockers on the farmer's front door. Frustrated, the capon looked away and started walking toward the adult roosters. He thought maybe someone had advice to help him control these obsessive stares. He rounded the first corner of the coop, and gasped at the two boulders pushed together against the fence. He started to run, but not before he spied some perky little plums suspended in the morning sunlight.
The capon started to sprint. He sped along the side of the coop, made it
around the front corner and stopped abruptly before an incredible pair of
hooters perched together in utter magnificence. The hooters leaned over, then
said to him,
"Hello little capon. Look at us. Do you think we're beautiful?" The capon couldn't answer. He was frozen, staring ignorantly at those luscious hooters. They moved back and forth in harmony; they jiggled; then they bounced up and down. The capon's eyes grew wider and his stare became more unyielding.
Just then, a female dog jumped out from behind the coop and landed on the capon. It clenched its canine teeth down on the capon's neck, and took its life in an instant.
The moral of the story: You don't need a set of balls to check out nice hooters-but if a cock's not paying attention, someday some bitch is gonna kill him