Fresh Eggs by Rob Levandoski Read Free Book Online Page B

tights underneath, so no one can see her underwear. Last thing to go on are a pair of shiny, black shoes. “Well, look at you,” Calvin says.
    They go down to the banquet. A woman at a table by the door gives them name tags. Someone in a chicken suit gives Rhea a bright yellow balloon. The banquet room is dark and there’s a woman playing a harp. People are standing in bundles, drinks in their hands. Norman Marek is suddenly in front of them. “Hey! Calvin! Got here safe and sound I see!” He bends over Rhea. “Hey! Look at that balloon!” He promises to steer Bob Gallinipper their way just as soon as he gets a chance. “Bob’s looking forward to meeting you,” he says.
    That’s the last they see of Norman Marek all evening. There’s a sit-down dinner—baked chicken, wild rice and cold string beans—and then a welcoming speech by Bob Gallinipper himself, while the waitresses plunk down shallow glass bowls filled with balls of lime and raspberry sherbet.
    Calvin has never seen Bob Gallinipper in person, though he has seen his smiling face on dozens of brochures and Christmas cards. Bob is older than his pictures. Balder. But the smile is exactly the same in person. It’s as wide as a slice of cantaloupe, breaking all the physical laws of distance and perspective, as huge to the people at the back tables as it is to the people sitting up front. “I’m just as happy as the last rooster on earth to see y’all,” Bob says. “I look forward to chit-chatting with each and every one of you.” He introduces his wife of thirty-three years, his beautiful Bunny. “Without my Bunny, I’d be just another tractor jockey growin’ corn and hemorrhoids.”
    Everybody laughs.
    â€œAnd God only knows where you’d all be!”
    Everybody laughs harder and gives Bunny Gallinipper a standing ovation. Bob kisses her with his cantaloupe smile and then introduces former California Governor Ronald Reagan who says America has to stand tall again and cut taxes and get the government off the people’s backs. At the end of his speech, the big chicken appears on the stage and hands him a bobbing bouquet of red, white and blue balloons. Reagan is enthralled by the balloons. When he releases them, and they wiggle like giant sperm toward the fertile chandeliers, the crowd applauds.
    Bob Gallinipper steps to the microphone and says, “I think Mr. Reagan is going to be the next president of the United States, don’t you?”
    When the speeches are finished and the sherbet balls eaten, the tables are cleared and Grand Old Opry regular Louise Peavey bounds on the stage, singing her 1976 hit, “Send Me a Man With Dirty Fingers.”
    â€œ I don’t want no man who pushes papers ,
    Who disco dances and burns the flag .
    I want a man who does his duty ,
    Works hard all day, loves hard all night .
    So send me a man with dirty fingers ,
    A clean-cut man with a dirty mind ,
    Send me a man with dirty fingers
    A real American man for this-here real American girl .”
    In the morning there’s a big breakfast. While everyone eats their omelets, Wayne Demijohn, Gallinipper’s vice president of manure management, speaks about the latest developments in his field. “I know some days it must seem like you’re in the manure business, and not the egg business,” he begins, “and I’m sure the day will come when the folks in the genetic research department will develop non-defecating hens …”
    There is a ripple of laughter as the sleepy omelet-eaters try to figure out if he’s joking or not.
    â€œâ€¦ but until that glorious day comes …”
    There’s a near unanimous agreement that he is indeed joking and the laughter builds.
    â€œâ€¦ it’s up to guano gurus like moi to help you get rid of that awful stuff.”
    Wayne Demijohn gets serious now. Processes are being developed, he