You know, I was surprised to read an article the other day about colored peeps. Well, that is what I call them. I used to beg my parents to take me to GC Murphy every Easter to look at the colored chicks that were for sale. I always wanted the Easter bunny to bring me one. But then, my mom always stepped in, even before I started begging.
“Vickie, the answer is no. They will poop all over the house and drive the dog nuts. The Easter bunny would never bring you a peep.”
Well, how the hell did she know that? I had friends who got Easter peeps from the Easter bunny. My mom was a moron.
I think down deep I really didn’t want a colored peep. I would have begged more. I was good at begging. But, their little peeping would have driven me crazy. Why the hell do they have to make continuous peeping? I really didn’t want any part of it.
That’s such a lie. I wanted a freaking baby colored peep. I am thinking about the noise as a middle aged woman. Kids don’t care about noise. They are all about noise. But, my mom was adamant. Even when I didn’t believe in the Easter bunny anymore, but swore I was old enough to take care of a chicken. I mean, chickens didn’t need to take baths. They didn’t bark when someone rang the doorbell. They would peck up dropped food onto the floor. I thought a chicken would make a great pet. If it grew up to be a rooster, it would wake us up in the morning. Valid reasoning.
“Vickie, I said no……..Because I said so……………No, you can’t keep it in the playhouse………….Well, a cat will get it…………..I know cats can’t open doors. I’m talking about it being in the backyard…………Your father is not building a fence for a colored peep……………We are not buying one for each one of you……..Because I said so……..”
And then the next year my mom lied and told me that there were no colored peeps at GC Murphy’s. What a liar. My friends Ramaine and LeeAnn told me they saw them. I guess once you see a colored peep, you really don’t care to see them every Easter time. But I did. I just loved animals.
Flashforward I don’t know how many years, but many states have banned selling colored peeps. It’s about time. I always wondered what parents did with the chicks after they came home. I mean, we used to come home with goldfish from carnivals. Friends came home from the beach with hermit crabs. But, those were manageable “pets.” What the hell do you do with a chicken or a rooster if you live in a subdivision? Well, you drive it to the nearest farm and give it to a farmer. I was told the little chicks would lose their pretty color when they molted. That would crush a kid.
“Mommy, where’s Chicky?…….That’s not Chicky!!! Chicky is blue!!” And then they would hate their mother for years for lying. The kid would think Chicky died and mom ran out and bought another plain colored chicken to explain it. Little kids don’t understand “molting.” I wish we could molt.
I am thinking that most parents just let the little poopy chicklets loose. You know they wouldn’t be around too long. Dogs and cats would have them for a snack. Feral chickens can be a problem though. They can form packs and attack. Like wolves.
Ok, I was teasing, but wikipedia lists a site of cities that have a feral chicken problem. Key West, Florida? Fair Oak, California? Houston, Texas? Hell, I was trying to be funny. I guess you need to watch where you walk.
It is illegal now in the United States, but people used to raise roosters for cock fighting. I guess a colored peep could have been a Rocky of the rooster world. They would fight to the death. Like Hunger games…except with roosters. Buy a colored peep today, and train it to fight.
If you didn’t want to set it loose into the streets of your city, I guess you could keep your peep and call it a family member. You could put a diaper on it. I’ve seen monkey pets wearing diapers. Why not chickens?
And then you can make clothing for it.
You’ve seen people dress up fake geese that sit on their porch. Which I’m sorry, but is sort of stupid. Especially when you can dress up a live one.
Tori Spelling has a chicken in her house. Many people have chickens in their house. Which is fine. But, don’t they poop every minute or two?
In the end, whoever first came up with the idea of dyeing poor defenseless peeps and selling them in a GC Murphy’s was a sick individual. Poor chicks. And then the stupid consumer who fell for it. Shame shame.
What’s next? Colored bunnies?
A purple dog?
I guess I shouldn’t talk. I had a colored chick when my kids were little. We named her Alex.