Everywhere I turn, there’s another one. It seems like there is no reprieve.
I was driving along the other day, and one burst out of the bushes and tried to run me off the road. I was having a hard-boiled egg for lunch, and there was a note to me inside the shell. I found a sack in a closet that produces eggs when I’m not looking. There are footprints on my cards. I was cleaning a friends attic, and too many of the strange dusty antiques had them painted on.
I am going crazy.
It is like a bomb went off spreading them everywhere.
And I am the only one that notices.
My friend thought everything was normal, just dusty. No one thinks my cards are odd. Many people seem to think that a steady supply of eggs is good. Eggshells contain lots of things, so why not notes? And why can’t a chicken cross the road?
It must be all in my head.
All in my head.
All in my head, they tell me.
So perhaps I’ll stop at that Inn under the sign of the cat and see what happens. Something inevitably will, and there will be a chicken behind it!