I didn't really know what was going on, right away. I was just waltzing along, not suspecting a thing. (Note: when I say that I was "waltzing", I mean it more in the cliche, happily-and-innocently-living-my-life sort of way, not actually waltzing in the literal sense. I can't waltz.)
So there I was, just happily and innocently living my life. Walking around and stuff. Waltzing, if you will.
It was getting dark, so I waltzed myself right out to the yard to close the chicken coop door. I flailed my arms to clear the spider webs from the gate opening, like ya do, and poked my head in the little door just to be sure everything was okay. This is pretty much what I saw:
I took this absence of chickens exceptionally well.
Turns out, the chickens were all over the yard, doing this:
And when I experimentally chased a few of them (all in the name of science, you understand), they did this:
I tried interrogating them
...but I was clearly getting nowhere. If chickens could talk, their speech would definitely have been slurred. They appeared to be, somehow, intoxicated. But since there are no rivers flowing with alcoholic beverages in the area, I failed to see how the entire flock could be in this state.
There was clearly only one thing to be done. I gave them some little chicken shades for the next day and sent them off to bed, my mouth set in a grim line.
After a good night's sleep, everyone was back to their normal brainless selves. We didn't even get any weirdly-shaped eggs. Turns out, my dad had just thrown them a slightly fermented apple. Those chickens eat out of the compost bin all day and never suffer any ill effects, but one rotten apple is just too much for their delicate constitutions. Go figure.