February 6, 2014 – It was high time to open up a bank account and put away the proceeds from our beverage company that we’ve kept hidden in the safe under the floorboards of coop #3. The flock elected Tim and Addie to be our company comptrollers, since both have a keen mind for figures. It was a beautiful, sunny day, so Sawyer and I took a walk to the bank with the other two and asked to meet with the branch manager. A good-looking young man pointed us in the direction of a small office. We hopped up and shared the two visitor chairs while we waited for Mrs. Valerie Threepenny to arrive and assist in our fiduciary transaction. In the few minutes it took our bank representative to finish up with another customer and make her way to us, Tim stapled his wing feathers to the desk and swallowed a paper clip. Perhaps we should rethink his involvement with the accounting aspect of our business.
Once we explained our desire to open a checking account, the process moved along quickly. Addie tossed the zippered envelope containing our cash onto the pressed wooden desk and counted every last bill alongside the bank manager. Mrs. Threepenny looked up at us and said, “This is an impressive amount of cash you have here. Congratulations on your new endeavor. What is it again that you all do for work?”
We put our heads together in a huddle, tossing back and forth opinions on what to tell the woman. Sawyer cleared her throat and replied, “We’re in potables”.
“Oh, that’s great!” Mrs. Threepenny smiled. “So, you have your own line of drinking water?”
“Something like that,” Sawyer smiled politely, before rolling her eyes at me.
Five minutes later, the four of us were walking back home, pleased with our accomplishment and the pink plastic piggy banks we received as a welcome gift. We decided to give them to the pullets. It’s never too early to start saving for the future. I wonder why they use pigs as banks. Do real pigs have slots in their backs? I’ve never seen one. If they do, it would make them walking ATM’s. I made a mental note to ask my porcine friends over at Mrs. Turner’s farm. Pigs as banks? It brings a whole new meaning to, “bringing home the bacon”.