“The Rooster That Never Was”

A blonde calls her boyfriend in a bit of a panic and says,
“Please come over and help me. I’ve been staring at this jigsaw puzzle for hours, and I just can’t figure out how to get started.”

Her boyfriend chuckles and asks,
“What’s it supposed to look like when it’s finished?”

She replies with complete confidence,
“According to the picture on the box, it’s supposed to be a rooster.”

Curious and amused, he drives over to her apartment. When he walks in, he finds puzzle pieces scattered across the kitchen table like a tiny cardboard battlefield. She’s sitting there with a furrowed brow, surrounded by bits of red, white, and black that absolutely refuse to make sense.

He studies the pieces for a moment, then picks up the box and examines the image. Slowly, a smile creeps across his face—the kind that says he’s trying very, very hard not to burst out laughing.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

She leans forward eagerly. “Just tell me how to start—where do the corners go?”

He sets the box down and takes her hands, still fighting the urge to laugh.
“First of all… no matter how hard we try, these pieces are never going to look like a rooster.”

Her eyes widen in confusion. “Why not?”

He turns the box so she can see it clearly and taps the front with his finger.

“Because…” he says, barely holding it together, “these are pieces from a box of Cornflakes.”

She stares at the box—then at the pieces—then back at him.
A long moment of stunned silence.

Finally, she whispers, “…So there isn’t a rooster?”

He pulls her into a hug, laughing.
“Not today, sweetheart. Not today.”