I’ve been a bit too busy to try the Friday Fictioneers prompt lately. But as I wrote a comment (a rather long one — 50 words) on Dale’s story, I realized maybe I could expand it to make a story of my own. So here it is:

Catherine peeled an eye open at 4 a.m. Okay, today she would march over to her neighbors and complain. It might be natural for a rooster to crow at dawn. It wasn’t natural for the same rooster to crow at brunch… and lunch… and tea… and dinner… and high tea… and supper… and apparently just to say goodnight. Or was he just that good with the ladies?
But before she could open her mouth, her neighbor said, “Hi! I was just coming over to invite you and the rest of our neighbors to dinner tonight. We’re having chicken pot pie!”
Write your own story to the picture prompt, post it wherever you post things and then click on Froggie’s link and join the fun! Everybody welcome!
Just goes to show if you wait long enough, some problems solve themselves 😉
LikeLike
Yes, I try to remember that before I go haring off to complain about something 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
I try to remember it too, but not always successful 😉
LikeLike
I was sure I had commented on this!
I love that you were inspired to come over here 😉
Good one!
LikeLike
Uh-oh. I’m taking that to mean rooster pot pie.
My mom got an accidental rooster once via a mix up at the feed store. The neighbors complained until she got rid of it. It was mean, too.
LikeLike
This was based on a story from a friend about how hard she laughed when her mother finally cooked “that damn rooster”! Apparently it used to chase her around the yard and peck at her bare legs. Made a good stew, though. Thanks for reading it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There’s only so much crowing anyone can take, either shut up or take pot luck, he got the pot. 🙂
LikeLike
😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
p.s. great title!
LikeLike
Thank you 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sounds like the neighbors were tired of that cocky little crowmaniac also. All’s well that ends well. Hens don’t need a rooster to lay eggs.
LikeLike
😄 That’s what I’ve heard, so maybe the hens are happy too. Thanks for reading!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re very welcome.
LikeLike
Silence is golden, except for the rooster
LikeLike
I think sometimes a family just gets pushed too far 😁 Thanks for reading, Michael.
LikeLike
Good eating and I bet those hens are happy!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I don’t know — I think he must have been a very busy boyfriend with all that crowing. What are they going to do now?! Thanks for your comments.
LikeLike
Yes, it was enjoyed! Thank you for reading.
LikeLike
Ha,that solves that, with an added bonus!
LikeLike
The best kind of solution! Thanks, Iain.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dear Genia,
it sounds like the rooster’s goose is cooked. Sorry, that was a fowl thing to say. 😉 Well served story.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLike
Oh, groan! Love your wordplay, thank you.
LikeLike
So… to you those were eggs. I first thought grapefruit, but then I realized it was the Sunbathing section of the Bald-Headed League.
LikeLike
Okay, I still don’t see grapefruit, but now the bald heads are totally stuck in my head!
LikeLike
Yum! And problem solved if it’s the rooster in the pot 🙂
LikeLike
You betcha! With maybe a hen or two — there’s gonna be a lot of neighbors celebrating!
LikeLiked by 1 person