“This is not your bedroom,” the man replied, “I am St. Peter, and you are in heaven.” “WHAT!?? Are you saying I’m dead? I don’t want to die – I’m too young.” said Harry.

“If I’m dead, I want you to send me back immediately.”

“It’s not that easy”, said St.Peter, “you can only return as a dog or a hen. You can choose on your own.”

Harry thought about it for a while, and figured out that being a dog is too tiring, but a hen probably has a nice and relaxed life.

Running around with a rooster can’t be that bad. “I want to return as a hen.” Harry replied.

And in the next second, he found himself in a chicken run, really nicely feathered.

But, man, now “he” felt like the rear end was gonna blow, then along came the rooster.

“Hey, you must be the new hen on the farm.” he said. “How does it feel?” “Well, it’s OK I guess, but it feels like my rear end is blowing up.” “Oh that!” said the rooster.

“That’s only the ovulation going on. Have you never laid an egg before?” “No, how do I do that?” Harry asked.

“Cluck twice, and then you push all you can.” Harry clucked twice, and pushed more than he was good for, and then ‘Plop’ and an egg was on the ground.

“Wow” Harry said, “that felt really good!” So he clucked again and squeezed – and you better believe that there was yet another egg on the ground.

The third time he clucked, he heard his wife shout: “Harry, for God’s sake wake up, you’re shitting all over the bed!”