I don't know a lot about a lot of things. But I am a man who knows his chickens, and somehow I was able to detach myself from my own fear and  analyze what lay before me.

The first thing I noticed was the wobbly gait of the one called Rooster. As everyone knows, a strutting chicken is a happy chicken, and  that wobbles is the excitable kind. The second thing was these were TALKING chickens. This enabled me to conclude I was dealing not only with giant, violent chickens, but giant violent chickens with above average .

But the thing that really got me was smack in the middle of the basement, surrounded by those awful, grade quintuple A eggs. Amid molted feathers and four or five pairs of dumbbells, there it stood, ominous and terrible, and not a cobweb on it.

A Stairmaster.
 
"Sweet Josephine," I gasped, "health-conscious chickens"

Then I felt myself losing consciousness in the echo of my own shrieks, because the  was too horrible. Before they cooked me, they were going to remove the skin.
  ANSWERS  calmly one intelligence truth