A good day to die

It was a beautiful winter day today, sunny but crisp and cold. Four roosters met their end--Branwell, Mr. Collins, and the two youngest who never had names, as did Nellie, a mean little hen who, once she promoted herself to head hen, never laid another egg. All are lying in state in the refrigerator waiting for rigor mortis to pass, and then they will marinate in red wine for a few more days.
Woman with Needlework will be relieved to know that in the end I couldn't bring myself to put the cleaver to Wendolyn; plump and unproductive as she is, she's just too sweet and good natured to kill. Mr. Darcy, now that he's the sole surviving rooster, is being more of a jerk than ever, attempting to bring the SGS ladies, who are a couple in their own right and do not wish to consort with a rooster, thankyouverymuch, into his harem.