My wife showed me the Cluckers at a store, explaining that her brother had given her one for Easter.
Donna: You wind up the chicken and it hops around and poops. I wouldn't eat it. Gross.
Mike: It's not poop. Read this.
Donna: "Lays bubble gum eggs."
Oh.
Well, I'm still not eating it.
The next morning for breakfast, she served us hardboiled eggs. You know, the ungross kind.
