The following conversation took place last night.
Helen: Step back! Mrs. Hall, stand behind me, I will handle this. Listen up, Food Lady, I am taking a stand, and want you to know that no longer will we be prevented from sleeping under the stars atop our chosen perch. We enjoy dew on our feathers, and we prefer the elephant to be decorated with our night droppings. We have no fear of rainfall, or predators, and our eggs should be allowed to lay where we choose. We will not be removed!
Food Lady: Helen, I don't care how hard you stare at me, you are sleeping in your chicken tractor if I have to carry you there every night!
Helen: I said to step back, and I mean business! Stare.
Mrs. Hall: Help! The Food Lady is trying to eat me! Wait, no, it's worse than I thought - she is cuddling me like I'm some sort of living feather pillow. Aak! This is humiliating.
Food Lady: Who's my good chicken... awww...such a good widdle chicken wicken... smoochy smoochy...
Mrs. Hall: Just send me to the stew pot and end my torment!
Mrs. Hall: Oh, why must I be imprisoned?!? What did I ever do to deserve this fate? Dejection. Hey, is that food?
Helen: You may have won this battle, but the war is not over, Food Lady! Ha! I will run back and forth, and back and forth, inside my cell and push my head into every corner, over and over like an idiot, until I find the way out of here. Wait, I think I see it over there. No, wait, it's over there...
Food Lady: Good night!