Bob had a knack for enjoying his nights a little too much. One evening, after indulging in a bit too much fun, he stumbled home and quietly slipped into bed beside his peacefully sleeping wife. Little did he know, that night would bring him more than just a hangover.
As the first light of dawn crept in, Bob awoke — but not in the cozy comfort of his familiar bedroom. No, this time, he found himself standing in front of the Pearly Gates, staring up at St. Peter.
“Am I… dreaming?” Bob muttered to himself, half expecting to wake up back in his bed.
St. Peter, clipboard in hand, looked up with a sympathetic smile. “Bob, I’m afraid you’ve passed away in your sleep.”
Bob’s eyes went wide, his heart racing. “Wait, what?! No way! I’m not ready for this! I’ve got so much left to do!”
Seeing Bob’s panic, St. Peter paused for a moment, then offered him a unique option. “Well, there is one way you could return… but there’s a catch. You’ll have to come back as a chicken.”
Bob blinked, his mind racing. A chicken? “Are you serious?”
But before he could argue further, the transformation hit him like a ton of feathers. In an instant, Bob was no longer standing at the gates of heaven but clucking on a farm, covered in feathers, with no idea how to get back to his old life.
