There was a windstorm that blew away all the cattle. All that remained was the basket I laid atop my beloved chicken in the final calm moments before the vortex opened up and swept away all that I had worked for. In the ensuing calm - a deathly calm like the interior of a crypt - I headed outside into the wreckage to see all that I had lost. From the side of what used to be the barn I heard a squawking and discovered my chicken, safe and sound beneath the small unsecured basket I had laid atop her quivering form.
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