Another week, another haunting encounter with my farming peers. This week, I had the pleasure of getting to know the mother-daughter duo on the ranch. We’ll call them Flipsy and Floopsy (I’ll let you guess who’s who). They came here from the Czech Republic but made it adamantly clear they are not originally from there. I have an inkling they’re from SoHo, but that’s just a hunch.
Flipsy and Floopsy are pretty normal save for a few key things: They have their own language that they use to communicate with each other, they call each other “babe” and they’re both very allergic to cow hair. The language, as I’ve deduced, is somewhere between Klingon and Mandarin. As to why they call each other “babe,” I could not guess, but it catches me more and more off guard every time I hear it.
They don’t really do any work, given their allergies, but they do really seem to get along well with the chickens. They keep holding the chickens up to their ears and pretending to have conversations with them. I’ve come to find that Doctor Doolittle is Flipsy and Floopsy’s favorite film — the Eddie Murphy version, of course. When we broke for lunch yesterday, everyone started walking to the cafeteria, but Flipsy and Floopsy just walked into the woods with one of the chickens. We have not heard from them since.