I'm thinking of hiring a gentleman's gentleman. In less sexist and racist language, I'm thinking of hiring a gallinaceous butler. However, what with butlers being all feudal, I thought it would be kind of absurd for me to describe it in any way but the old-fashioned one. Anyhow, I was looking through back copies of the newspaper and found the cutest picture of a chicken butler:



His name is Peep, and from what I can gather from his home page, he has a college degree. I mean, I don't think they'd let him wear a black millboard for a regular high school graduation. Yep, I'm going to hire a college-educated chicken. His home page doesn't have that much information on his educational background, but I'm hoping he has a degree in cooking or quantum mechanics or philosophy or Japanese or psychology or unagi engineering or something like that.

I guess I'm going to have to cross chicken-related products off my to-eat list. Fortunately, I can probably convert them to turkey.

Updates to the to-eat list

• chicken strudel
  
• turkey strudel
  
• chicken Julius
  
• turkey Julius
  
• turkey fingers
  
• turkey cheesecake

I'm expecting good things to come from having a chicken to buttle for me. If I'm hungry, I'll be able to say, "Peeps," for that is his name, "I'm feeling a bit peckish." Then he'll say, "Would Madam like some turkey strudel?" Then I'll say, "With a glass of pheasant Julius, if you don't mind." Then he'll say, "Not at all." Then he'll scuttle out of the room on his little chicken feet, whip up some delicious food, and bring it back. He'll present all of this to me on a silver plate while saying, "I hope Madam doesn't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing an unagi and hotdog salad." Score!

• unagi and hotdog salad

He'll also change the way I interact with people. If you want to scritch me, you can leave your card with my man Peep. He'll make sure you have a comfortable place to sit on the stairs, don his bowler hat, and butlerize off to find me. I'll read your card and, if I like you, I'll invite you into my drawing room (which Peep will need to build at some point in the near future) where you can scritch me. If I don't like you, Peep will take off his bowler hat and jacket and tell you to shove off. If you don't go, he'll get rough and call you "cully" and butlerate your ass out of the house.