“Peep Show Gone Wrong:
Chicks, Mail Trucks, and Postal Madness”
Ladies and gentlemen, gather round — I’ve got a story for you. It’s got birds, bureaucracy, and a big ol’ box of what the hell happened?!
Picture this: 12,000 baby chicks — fluffy, peeping, tiny balls of potential omelettes — shipped out from a hatchery in Pennsylvania. “Bon voyage, little fluffers! You’re off to farms across America!” Then… silence. Cue ominous music.
Three days later — not one, not two, three — somebody at the U.S. Postal Service goes, “Hey, what’s that chirping in the back of the truck?” SURPRISE! It’s 12,000 chicks — now down by a horrifying 4,000 due to starvation, heat, and good ol’ postal neglect.
No food, no water, no tiny fans going bzzz — just a box of feathery survivors goin’, “Is this Amazon Prime or a horror movie?”
And the Postal Service? They say, “Oh, this kind of thing… rarely happens.” Oh, rarely?! That’s like saying, “Your parachute usually works.”
The hatchery, Freedom Ranger (sounds like a chicken with a badge and a gun), says, “Not our fault! Can’t take them back — biosecurity, darling!” Which is code for, “No refunds on dead birds.”
Meanwhile, the 8,000 surviving chicks were taken to a Delaware shelter, where workers are now trying to adopt them out. “Would you like one chick, or 400? They come in bulk. They're great with toast.”
Only a few hundred have been adopted. That means thousands are still looking for a home. Cue Sarah McLachlan singing “In the Arms of the Angel”… but with chickens.
And let’s talk about PETA — they’ve been saying for years, “Don’t ship live animals like they’re junk mail!” But the USPS has been doing it for over a century, folks! That’s right — 100 years of “Neither snow nor rain nor dead poultry…”
Look — this ain’t just about chickens. It’s about empathy. It’s about how we treat life — even the little peeping kind. Because if we’re okay losing 4,000 baby birds in a truck and calling it “a rare issue,” we might wanna check our collective soul. Or at least open the damn truck once in a while.
So here’s to the surviving chicks. May they find homes, love, and hopefully never see the inside of a mail truck again.
Good night, God bless, and for heaven’s sake — someone buy those birds a fan and a juice box.
