I imagine while I'm not home that butterflies by the gazillions stop by for the privilege and bliss of hanging out on my girl's head plume and giving her some love. It's fabulous up there. Soft, comfy, gets ya where you're going...but Phyllis, while quite kind to her peeps (get it?) and us, has her share of barbaric traits as well. It's simply part of being a chicken. If you're little and wander by you're fair game for good eatin'. So while these lovely butterflies think they're completing Phyllis' fabulous look, my girl is likely licking her chops in sweet anticipation.
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