Remember Boots, my mom’s favorite rooster? Apparently Boots, likes other boys. I don’t believe I have ever had to explain, or, attempt to explain, why a rooster wants to get it on with another rooster. So here is the conversation. I swear. No one can make this crap up. This is the woman who gave birth to me. She is also the person I get my wit and charm from, but, we’ll save that for another post.

Mom: “I caught Boots trying to mount Crip.”(don’t ask about the name)
Me: “What do you mean mount, were they fighting again?”
Mom: “No, I think he was trying to get on him.”
Me: “You mean Bootsie was wanting to do the rooster nasty with Crip?”
Me: “There are only two hens running around with 7 roosters. What do you expect.”
Mom: “I think he might be gay.” (this is the point where I roll my eyes)
Me: (having a blast with the conversation I decide to go Dr. Phil on her)”You can’t stop loving Boots because he’s gay. Support him. He was born gay. He didn’t just all of a sudden decide he preferred males.”(I manage to say this with a straight face)
Mom: “But I’ve never seen a gay rooster.”
Me: “Maybe he’s bi. I’m sure he’s mounted the hens at one point too.”
Mom: “I’ve never seen him try. The other roosters seem to pick on Boots and gang up on him.”
Me: “Even more reason for you to love and support him. Maybe you can start a support group for the owners of gay roosters. Gay Cock Support Group.”
Mom: (insert my entire name, first middle and last since this the only time she says my full name is when she’s mad at me or when I’ve said something that shocks her) “I’m not that crazy.”
Me: “You’re telling your daughter you think your favorite rooster is gay. That qualifies as nutso in my book, Mom.”

I was laughing so hard by the end of all this I had to get a paper towel and wipe my eyes. I don’t know what worries me more-her having a favorite rooster, or, her worrying that he might be gay. Or, even thinking about a gay rooster to begin with. Gotta love her.