As you already know, our mission of making out with Katrina already failed. Which is why we go to...
“Hey, is that juice you’re taking?”
You blush, “Yes.”
I want to ask who gave it to you, but that’s rude, isn’t it? Especially given the fact that you’re my guest.
Our mission of the day is feeding thirty chicken. Alright here is what we’ll be doing. You go to the Northern pen, I go South.
We each fill our buckets with chicken feeds. Actually mom bought the new V-1 feeds the other day, though I’m afraid the new ones are over rehearsed.
By over-rehearsed, I mean poor quality.
“How’s chicken feeds in your place?”
“Not that bad.”
“You guys rear chicken too?”
“Not that much.” You answer as you look at my empty hands.
Alright, we’re gonna have to take to our places.
“Hold on a minute, how many chicken am I going to feed?”
 
I pick up two buckets from the corner as you await your answer, “Let’s go baby.”
In the first round, I hear your screams.
The third round? More screams.
What the hell is happening?