To honor their father’s dying wish, two little girls, Isla, 6, and Madison, 8, visit his grave on his birthday, dressed in beautiful outfits just for him. Near his gravestone, they find two wrapped boxes with their names on them.
Since Brian’s passing, Isla and Madison had been quieter, missing the fun moments they shared with him. Linda, their mother, struggled with grief, finding it difficult to move on. Brian’s last words to his daughters were a wish to see them dressed in their finest on his birthday, and, though hesitant, Linda took them shopping so they could fulfill his request.
On Brian’s birthday, the girls, holding hands, walk to his grave with Linda trailing behind. At the grave, they find gifts labeled with their names, each containing a pair of Mary Janes and a heartfelt letter from Brian. In the letter, he encourages them to be happy, mischievous, and to remember he is always with them.
As the girls read the letter, Linda finally feels peace, comforted by her daughters’ love and resilience. Through their visit, the family feels Brian’s presence, realizing that love and cherished memories keep them connected, no matter the distance.
Bob returns home drunk one night and slips into bed next to his wife
After a night of overindulgence, Bob found himself in an entirely unexpected situation — standing at the Pearly Gates in front of St. Peter.
But instead of accepting his fate, Bob struck a deal to return to life… as a chicken. What followed was an egg-laying, feathery experience he never saw coming.
Stumbling Into Bed
Bob was known for enjoying his nights out a bit too much, and that evening was no exception. Late at night, he stumbled into bed, quietly sliding in next to his wife, who was sound asleep. Little did he know, the night was about to take an unimaginable turn.
As the first light of dawn broke, Bob didn’t wake up in his own bed. Instead, he found himself standing before the grand Pearly Gates.
“Am I dreaming?” he muttered, confused.
St. Peter, clipboard in hand, greeted him warmly.
“Bob, I’m afraid you passed away in your sleep.”
Bob’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
“This can’t be! I’m not ready to go. There’s so much I haven’t done yet!”
St. Peter, sympathetically, offered a solution.
“Well, there is one way you could return, but only as a chicken.”
Desperate to get back to life, Bob reluctantly agreed. Without a moment to reconsider, he was instantly transported to a nearby farm, now covered in feathers, clucking involuntarily.
Clucking Confusion
Adjusting to life as a hen, Bob was met by a smug rooster.
“Well, well, look who’s new in the coop! How’s it going, hen?”
Bob, still in shock, responded,
“Not bad, but I’ve got this weird pressure inside me. I feel like I’m about to burst!”
The rooster laughed.
“Ah, you’re ovulating. Haven’t you ever laid an egg before?”
Bob, wide-eyed, shook his feathery head.
“Never.”
“Well, it’s easy,” the rooster said. “Just relax and let nature take its course.”
Bob hesitated for a moment, but then, to his surprise — and discomfort — he laid an egg. A rush of strange emotions followed, and for a brief moment, he experienced the inexplicable joy of motherhood. He laid another egg, then another. Just as he was about to lay his third, a sharp smack to the back of his head jolted him awake.
“Bob! Wake up!” his wife yelled. “You’re drunk again and pooping in the bed!”
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