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“Hey, Doodles, check out my dance moves!” exclaims Disco, swagging her hips and snapping her fingers. “It’s the chicken dance. Getting ready for Maybel and June’s wedding. Join me!” Doodles frowns. “Isn’t that appropriation? I mean, did you even ask Guard Chicken for the licensing rights?” Disco stops in her tracks. “Oh no! Please don’t…

Doodles and Disco wish you happy Juneteenth and happy Pride.

“Doodles, what if someone breaks into our house?” “Don’t worry,” Doodles says, patting Disco’s back. “If someone’s out there, the chickens will let us know.” Disco frowns. “Even if they’re sleeping?” “Chickens are notoriously light sleepers.” “But what if someone still gets in?” “Then I’ll change the locks tonight. Would that help?” “Maybe,” she says,…

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” says Disco, frowning over her Geese Speak dictionary. “It says here that Honk really is hello.” “Maybe it’s your accent?” ventures Doodles. “Try it without that lilt at the end.” “Okay.” Turning to the geese, Disco shouts, “HONK! HONK! HONK!” Dead silence falls over the pond. “Well,” murmurs Doodles, patting Disco’s back. “Now…

Doodles and Disco are on vacation. Here is a blast from the past. “Disco, I love you more than a hundred thousand million stackable containers all stacked together on a cargo ship crossing the Adriatic.” “That’s nice, Doodles,” says Disco absently, patting his arm. “But I thought maybe the cargo ship could cross the Drake…

“I can’t get this itching to stop,” complains Disco, brow furrowed as she steps away from a peeling-bark Beech. “Think I ran into a patch of poison ivy.” Cracking his knuckles, Doodles steps toward her. “Oh, here–let me help. I’ve been waiting to put my PhD in back-scratchery to use.” “Ah…thank you! That feels great!” exclaims Disco.…