Recently, I am told, Jack partook for the first time of chicken on the bone. This came by way of chicken wings which he lunched upon at the local Dominicks.
According to his mother Ann, the bone-in nature of this tidbit was confusing to young Jack.
"Is it alive?" he asked.
No, Ann assured him, the chicken that made up his meal was most assuredly dead. It just had bones in it just like when it was alive.
Jack gnawed a bit longer, then asked his mother, "When the farmer comes to kill the chicken, do you know where the graveyard is?"
Ann responded that she did not know.
Jack responded by dropping his jaw and pointing into his mouth.
And the circle of life keeps turning.
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