Setting: I'm in bed and Sweety is driving home from bowling.
Me: Hey, Sweety! How are you?
Him: Eh, okay.
Me: How was your game?
Him: It sucked. I bowled like a one-legged Grandma.
Me: Oh. I'm so sorry that you had a crappy game.
And then I get to the point of my call...
Me: Can I have a chicken?
Him: What? Hello? What did you say?
Me: A chicken. I'd like a pet chicken.
Him: Sure, when we move to Oklahoma in 10 years.
Me: No, I mean now.
Him: Where would you put it?
Me: In a covered pen in the backyard. We're getting a fence so nobody would know she was there. I'd get a small coop.
Him: You're kidding, right?
Me: *crickets chirping*
Him: Where are you looking at chickens?
Me: There's someone online that has one he needs to get rid of.
Him: What the hell would you do with it?
Me: Pet it. She's blind in one eye and very gentle. The other chickens pick on her. She'll let people pet her. I'd keep her clean. And she'd live outside.
Him: You've got a dog. You've got a dog in the bed with you right now, don't you?
Me: Yeah, but I won't let the chicken in the bed. If I throw the dog out of the bed, can I have the chicken?
Him: No. No chickens.
Unfortunately, I will be unable to make a home for Fuzzy Britches here. I'm very disappointed. Until this, I'd been able to talk Sweety into anything. I even tried using my feminine wiles later on to talk him into it but it was to no avail. Rats.