Bob came home drunk one night, slid into bed next to his wife, and quickly passed out.
Moments later, he woke up standing before St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.
“Bob,” St. Peter said solemnly, “you died in your sleep.”
“What?! No way!” Bob shouted. “I can’t be dead — I’ve got too much to live for! Please, send me back!”
St. Peter sighed. “There’s only one way I can send you back, and that’s as a chicken.”
Before Bob could argue, everything went white — and suddenly, he was covered in feathers, standing in a farmyard, pecking at the ground.
A rooster strutted over. “So, you’re the new hen, huh? How’s your first day?”
“Not bad,” Bob said, “but I’ve got this weird feeling… like I’m gonna explode!”
The rooster laughed. “That’s called ovulating. You’re about to lay your first egg. Just relax and let it happen.”
A few seconds later, plop! Out came an egg. Bob was overwhelmed with emotion — pure joy! He laid another one, and then another. He’d never felt prouder in his life.
Just as he was about to lay a fourth, he felt a sharp smack on the back of his head and heard his wife yelling:
“Bob! Wake up, you idiot — you’re sh*tting the bed!” 😭🐔
And that, folks, is why Bob no longer drinks before bedtime!
