Miss Noodle was crouched behind the table that had been carefully positioned in the center of the coop. She was silent and scared. If Mr. MacGregor caught them meeting tonight he would surely roast them all. There was room for four to sit, but no one else had arrived yet. Wait, was that a noise? Was someone coming?
A low whisper crept through the door, “Noodle? Noodle, are you here?”
Miss Noodle kept her beak shut and crouched a bit lower behind the table. She ducked her head.
“Noodle? It’s me, Little. Are you here?”
“I’m here Little,” Miss Noodle replied almost as quietly and through a sigh of relief, “come inside, quick and be quiet.”
The two hens huddled together.
“Shhhh,” said Miss Noodle.
“Hush,” said Miss Little. “Do you hear that?”
“Sounds like someone singing in… French? Or maybe Italian?”
They listened, to a tuneless and quiet rendition of would could have been raucous music, indeed would have been raucous music – were it louder, creeping up through the floorboards into the coop where the girls huddled with their wings around one another for comfort.
Sírveme otra copa por favor
Quiero estar borracho
Yo quiero sentirme de lo peor,
Quiero tomar mucho para olvidar.
Quiero tomar mucho,
No importa el dinero…”
“That sounds like Spanish,” Noodle whispered, “It must be Alfredo. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it and, he’s probably drunk again.”
Miss Noodle cautiously peeked outside. Alfredo was lying on the ramp so she grabbed him by the spur and pulled him inside.
“Buenos dias, gallinas,” he shouted to them when he had managed to focus.
“Where’s Penny?” Little asked, a bit too loudly.
“She’s not coming,” Alfredo answered. “She’s not coming.”
“Shit,” hissed Little, “we’ll have to do this without her. Go on then, Noodle, call the meeting to order.”
Oye Cantinero lyrics by ‘El Tri”