The Egg or the Chicken...?

It was a bright, sunny day. The farm animals couldn't have been happier, lazing about, going about their farm animal lives. The chicken, however, could not help but be discontent. He had heard the farmer sharing a riddle with his wife. The humans both got a good laugh out of it, and the matter was soon forgotten, lost in the mist of human worry. But for the chicken, this was no simple riddle. This was a question that may provide an answer towards his existence. As a result, he snuck out of the coop that very night, intent on solving the mystery that had plagued him throughout the day. There was only one egg left, so he would have to use extreme caution in his interrogation. The chicken entered the shed where farm animal spoils were kept and counted his chicken blessings that the room was deserted. Except for the egg.

The chicken was nervous, more nervous than he could ever remember being before (which wasn't a very long span regardless), but pressed onward, sweating his chicken sweat all the while. After hours of tortured marching, the chicken finally made it across the room, and opened his beak to ask the fateful question...

"Hold it right there, bub! Don' even think about opening that cluck-box o' yours."

The chicken was so startled, he felt sure he would have laid an egg himself, if he had been capable.

"Yeah, that's right. I know exactly what ya were gonna ask. Lemme tell ya somethin' right now: forget about it."

The chicken was becoming quite offended with this turn of events. He was supposed to be the intimidating one. He was the one who had the idea. After all, he came first.

"Oh don't go spewing your baloney to me, bub."

This was getting decidedly off-beat.

"Lemme ask ya, what difference does the silly mess make? The egg hatched, leading to the chicken. Or...the chicken laid the egg. There's the possibilities. Who cares how it happened? Will your chicken kibbles start tasting better once you know? You just wasted a wonderful day wondering about a wonder that, quite honestly, is wonderfully pointless. Don't wanna waste that chicken brain o' yours? That's fine, fine. Try looking around you then. An egg. A life yet to be lived. Endless possibility, right there, waiting to happen. Doesn't that boggle your chicken mind? Look at yourself. A life in progress. Experiences that have happened, are happening, and still waiting to happen. A work of art in progress, really. Your life is begging to be lived, boy. Get your chicken butt out there and get to it. And keep thinking about that egg. About what will happen. Possibility."

The chicken smiled a lot more after that. Kept away from eggs though.