He slid into bed, kissed his wife on the cheek and fell into a deep sleep.
He awoke before the Pearly Gates.
St
Peter said, “You died in your sleep, Ralph.”
Ralph was stunned. “I'm dead? No, I can't be! I've got too much to live for. Send me back!”
St
Peter said, “Hmm, perhaps that could be arranged. It does involves a lot of paperwork… but sure. You've got two alternatives: you can come back as a fish or as a hen.”
Ralph never liked swimming, and thought that perhaps being a hen wouldn't be that bad after all. Walking around pecking at the ground, no stress, and if the local rooster was nice then perhaps it could be a comfortable existence.
Ralph replied, “Okay, then I choose to be a hen.”
The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking, and pecking the ground.
A rooster strolled past. “So, you're the new hen, eh? How's your first day here?”
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