So my dad
who is a professional story guy
is doing a send-up of the Canterbury Tales over at the Getty Museum in LA
if you live there you should go to it
but if you don’t
DON’T EVEN WORRY
I GOT THIS SHIT COVERED:

so it’s been a while since i talked about the Canterbury Tales
when we last left off
I think some farm guy got drunk
and told a story about people putting their tongues in each other’s buttholes
after that, some people got really offended
and their response was to tell some MORE stories
about even MORE tongues in even DIRTIER buttholes
until finally, the innkeeper
who, if you recall, is the dude who got everybody started telling stories to begin with
is like whoah whoah guys come on
we need to class up this pilgrimage a little
cause uh
christianity?
so lemme bring our next teller up to the mic
his name is daun Piers, and he is a MONK
not only that, he’s got MUSCLES
are you guys ready for this pilgrimage to get classy as fuck?
man I’m fuckin ready as shit
let’s do this

but PLOT TWIST
it turns out that “classy” is just another word for “boring”
(i thought we all knew this)
so the monk just drones on for like a billion millenia
about sadness and clouds and bad fortune and whatever
until everybody is like whoah dude
we wanted you to tone it down a little
but not to sub-audible levels
i mean if it weren’t for the dappled sunlight straight strobing off your oiled muscles
we would have fallen asleep HOURS ago
tell us a different story
something funny
maybe with some tongues and buttholes in it

and the monk is like
NO
ONLY SADNESS

so everybody is like ok then
new teller
SIR JOHN THE PRIEST
READY SET GO

so John may be a priest
but he knows how to read a crowd
he does not even try for that melancholy shit
he goes straight for a story he knows everyone will love
one with violence, treachery, and a huge cock

the cock’s name is Chauntecleer
he lives in a harem of seven hens
who are also, according to John, his sisters?
I mean okay, I guess this is mythology, so whatever
but they all straight up LOOK LIKE HIM
he’s boning his TWINS, pretty much
which is, you know, kind of my fantasy
but as I learned long ago
that does not make it healthy or okay

but leaving aside the rooster’s incestuous tendencies
he’s got one hen who he loves the most
her name is Pertelote
because this is Olde England
and they didn’t have TV so they had to give fucked up names to their animals
and Pertelote loves Chauntecleer the best as well
because it’s not like she has choices

so the two of them are sitting next to each other in the roost one night
when Chauntecleer wakes up like HOLY MOTHER OF GOD
I JUST HAD THE MOST HORRIBLE DREAM
A FOX ATE ME
and Pertelote is like aw hell no
If I wanted to sleep next to a pussy, there are six other perfectly good ones in here
I do not need you to be developing your own proprietary form of vagina up in here
here is a science fact:
dreams are bullshit
now take a chill pill
(and by chill pill she means laxative
seriously, that’s part of the OG text
I have no idea why
I guess people used to have to shit out their bad dreams in the olden days)
and get the fuck back to sleep

but Chauntecleer is not gonna take that kind of guff
guff is not a commodity valued by roosters
so he’s like BITCH
DREAMS ARE NOT BULLSHIT
Like, I read a book once
where this guy had a dream that his friend was gonna die
and then in the morning his friend was DEAD
and buried in POOP
(well played, Sir John
way to work poop into your story all sly
you truly are a man of god)
Then Chauntecleer cites like ten more stories
from the bible and the metamorphoses and whatever else he can think of
all of which have the same basic moral:
DREAMS ARE TERRIFYING AND YOU WILL DIE

and Pertelote is like
aw HELL no
you’re a ROOSTER, dude
what the fuck are you doing reading BOOKS?
are you telling me I’ve been hooking up with a pussy
who is ALSO A NERD??
UNACCEPTABLE
and Chauntecleer is like no wait baby it was all a joke haha
i am not afraid even a little bit at all
let us go into the yard and eat corn and frolic fearlessly
and Pertelote is like that’s more like it
come over here and put your tongue in my butthole

so they get it on
HARD
they actually have sex twenty times before sunrise
and by the time they’re done ruffling each other’s feathers
Chauntecleer has completely forgotten about his bad dream
because let’s be honest
if somebody was down to let me do them twenty times before the sun came up
I would probably lose my fear of death too

so he’s wandering around
in the stupid way roosters do
(god I hate roosters
did you know I used to have a rooster
one day I put some food in my hand and held it out to him
and he BIT MY FUCKING HAND
HE LITERALLY BIT THE HAND THAT FEEDS HIM
so i killed him and made him into tacos)
and there’s a fox hiding in the bushes nearby
and Chauntecleer spots him and is like OH SHIT
but the fox is like dude chill out
I too am a talking animal, and so you have nothing to fear
I’m just here because I wanna hear you sing, buddy
yeah see, I’m a friend of your dad’s
(^^A THING THAT CHILD MOLESTERS SAY^^)
and your dad used to come over all the time and sing for me
and it was so pants-shittingly beautiful
that I decided to track you down and hide near your house
in the hope that you would discover me and then i could ask you to sing
make sense?
and Chauntecleer is like OF COURSE IT MAKES SENSE
EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE WHEN IT TAKES THE FORM OF A COMPLIMENT DIRECTED AT ME
AHEM:
IS THIS THE REEEEEAL LIIIIIIFE
IS THIS JUST FAAAANTASY
CAUGHT IN A *gak* oh god

that last part is not a clever addition to Queen’s classic rock anthem
it is a thing Chauntecleer says because the fox has his mouth on Chauntecleer’s throat
and all the hens are going bonkers about it
and the lady whose farm it is comes outside
with all her weapons and shit
and the fox is like oh shit gotta go
and Chauntecleer
(who remember, is actually pretty well educated)
takes the opportunity to enact a brilliant scheme
he’s like What’s the matter, fox?
are you afraid of some hens and a lady farmer?
What are you, chicken?
Man, if I were you, you know what I’d do?
I’d turn around and I’d look them in their stupid female eyes and be like
“MY NAME IS FOX AND I DON’T GIVE NO FUX”
and the fox is like OH MY GOD THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA
but he has to open his mouth to say those things
so Chauntecleer escapes and flies up a tree

so now it’s the fox’s turn to be clever again
he looks up at Chauntecleer and he’s like aww dude
I understand why you might have freaked out just now
but i was only carrying you by the neck with my teeth
in order to bring you to my HOUSE so we could HANG OUT
and Chauntecleer is like dude
fool me once
shame on you
fool me twice
still shame on you
you’re an asshole
I don’t want to hang out with you
Then he goes home and bangs all the hens a hundred more times

So the moral of the story
is that it would be awesome if roosters could talk
then you could explain things to them
like morality and common sense
and how you shouldn’t fucking BITE SOMEONE’S HAND IF THEY’RE TRYING TO GIVE YOU FOOD
I mean WHAT THE HELL, RIGHT?
THAT’S LIKE THE CLASSIC EXAMPLE OF A THING YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO
AND IF MY ROOSTER HAD BEEN EVEN HALF AS LITERATE AS THIS MOTHERFUCKER
HE MIGHT HAVE KNOWN THAT SHIT

also rooster meat tastes like boiled ass.

the end.