Three Cooked Hens

“NOELLE!!!”, my mom exclaimed.

“Yes, I’m coming!”, I replied annoyingly to my mother.

“Bring the hens on your way out”, she sassily replied.

Wait! I totally forgot to introduce myself! My bad. Well, I’m Noelle, and I am 16 years old. I live in the North Pole with my mother, Carol and my father, Caspar. I live in this humble cottage right in the middle of the village with a farm in the back where we grow our poultry for our business. My father just finished butchering the last three hens for today, hence, my mother asking me to bring the hens out to the store-front. Speaking of which, I totally forgot! Catch you later!

“What took you so long, Noelle?”, my mother inquired.

“Nothing really,” I answered evading the question to mask the fact that I slept late last night. Yikes!

Thankfully, she didn’t push the topic further as she was already preoccupied with fixing our stocks, and entertaining a custom… Oh dear! She is entertaining the one and only Emmanuel Klaus, the only son of Santa and Mrs. Klaus! I immediately hid under the table, conscious of how I look, especially since I made the horrible decision to sleep late. Ugh, my eyebags!

“Noelle, get up from there, and help me pack these three hens for Emmanuel,” my mother ordered.

Without any choice, ​​the hopeless me rose from my hiding place to help out. As I went to my mother, he spoke.

“Hello, Noelle. Nice seeing you today,” Emmanuel said while my heart was beating out of my chest.

“Hi!”, I uttered with nothing else coming out of my mouth. Just as I said that, my mother gave the three hens as he paid.

“Thank you!” Emmanuel said as he was walking away, not giving us a chance to say anything.

“Well, isn’t he a handsome boy? Don’t you think, Noelle?” my mother asked. I could only nod. As we were closing, I could only think about how my true love could only be him. He has to be the one because I cannot bear the thought of being with another boy and him being with another girl.

Hours later, it was time for dinner. As I was setting the table, I heard someone knocking. I opened it, and it was Emmanuel!

“Hi! Uhhh, I just wanted to give these cooked hens, the three hens to be exact that I bought from your family, to show my appreciation to your family for providing the stock for the village,” he said.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three french hens indeed… three cooked french hens at that.