The Little Red Rooster

Once upon a time there was a Little Red Rooster who loved to plant things but he had a postage stamp size yard and no room for a garden. 

He bought two seedlings and asked, "Who will help me plant these tomato plants?" 

"Not I." said his hen who did not want tomatoes growing on the front porch.
"Not I," said his oldest chick who hasn't planted anything in years.
"Not I," said his two youngest chicks who were too busy playing to help.

"Then I will plant them myself," said the Little Red Rooster.
And he did.

He waited until his hen went to Oregon to visit her mother and then planted tomatoes in two pots on the front porch.

"Who will help me water these tomato plants?" He asked.

"Not I," said his hen, who eyed the growing plants with resentment. 
"Not I," said the oldest chick who worked seven days a week and was rarely home.
"Not I," said the two youngest chicks who were too busy swimming to help.

"Then I will water the plants by myself."
And he did.

These plants were his pride and joy. He lovingly watered and fertilized them and daily checked on his growing tomatoes, while visions of BLTs danced in his head. 

He panicked when his friend's tomatoes ripened and his didn't. He asked for advice and learned tomatoes need at least 50 degree weather at night to ripen. Northern Wisconsin gets colder than that at night. What to do? What to do?

"Who will help me cover the tomato plants at night?" the Little Red Rooster asked.

"Not I," said his hen, who figured when all was said and done, it was cheaper to buy store tomatoes.

"Not I," said his oldest chick who had started a new job and wasn't home much.

"Not I," said his two youngest chicks who were too busy with school work to help.

"Then I will handle this myself," he said.

And he did.

He waited until his hen was gone and brought the tomatoes plants into the kitchen. If she didn't want the plants on the front porch, she for sure didn't want them in the kitchen!!! He claimed he didn't notice the smell. He growled at his cats who tried to knock the finally ripening tomatoes off the plant. 

He waited again until his hen was gone (do you notice a pattern here?) as she had not been one bit supportive of his endeavor. And he picked the biggest tomato, fried bacon, made a BLT and ate it ALL BY HIMSELF.

The End.

(Coming soon, "Peppers on the Porch," the exciting sequel to "The Little Red Rooster)