It's Just Too True

‘What a nasty business.’ Said the hen to the others on the other side of town far from where the thing actually happened. ‘Such a nasty thing to happen in any hen house. I won’t sleep a wink tonight.’ Then she started to tell the story the way she had heard it from the others. Even the Rooster’s comb dropped slightly. It was just too true after all. But let us go back to the beginning to how it all started. As the sun went down one evening all the hens flew up towards their perch to roost for the night. One very charming hen started to preen herself and a tiny feather came loose and wafted to the ground below. ‘Oh dear, I shall pluck myself quite bear still. Think how pretty I will look then.’ She joked with herself in a charming way as all the others were sound asleep already. All but one hen next to her who only half overheard her jest as was expected of one in any respectable hen house. It just wouldn't do to eavesdrop on other hens, now would it? She nudged the hen on the other side of her and whispered in her ear, ‘I heard there’s one of us about to pluck out all her feathers and starve herself half to death. I wouldn’t name names, but what is the world coming to I ask you.’ The owls up above them in the tree overheard their gossip and Mother owl said to her husband, ‘What one earth will happen down there next? There’s a hen down there about to pluck out all her feathers with the old rooster just looking on. Can you believe that father.’ ‘The little ones might hear you. Steady on mother owl.’ Said the husband. ‘I must go and spread the news to the other owls across the road from us.’ She said and flew on to her neighbor. ‘Hoot! Hoot.’ She said ‘It’s just too true. It’s just too true.’ ‘Have you heard a hen in the hen house is plucking out all her feather’s. Hoot! Hoot!’ the pigeons down below overheard it all and started cooing away in fury spreading the rumor far and wide. ‘There’s a hen or two who are plucking out there feathers and will surely catch a cold and die overnight.’ It soon buzzed from hen house to hen house all over the countryside. The rooster was half asleep still but could not help hearing the whole commotion. He flew up to his lofty perch and proclaimed loudly for the whole world to hear. ‘Five hens have plucked out all their feathers just for the sake of the great rooster himself, and froze to death overnight!’ he crowed the news like a true cockrel far and wide for all to hear. The bats heard the noise of the dead hens as well and started shouting ‘It’s just too true! It’s just too true!’ and the story ran like wildfire all over the neighborhood until it all came back to the little hen where it all started. ‘A disgrace, I say.’ She keckeld on along with the rest, not knowing that all of the gossip was all about herself. ‘Such hens should be ostrasized.’ She added boldly. ‘I will have it printed in the morning paper right away. It should make front page news.’ So she had it printed in the morning edition for all the see and hear. Soon the whole wide world would know that there were hens plucking out all of their feathers all over the hen house it seemed. And that’s how just one little feather becomes a catastrophe in the local hen house ‘It’s just too true! It’s just too true!’

(From the Famous Story of 'Hans Christian Andersen.')