All Emily’s talk and gyration about peacocks makes me feel a bit threatened. She has chosen to set her sights not on a sexually ambiguous, general peafowl, but on a peacock, the male of the variety, the one with the fantastically fanning feathers. How deeply dare I read into her recent daydreamings of possessing a male whose feathery splendor far outweighs mine?  In fact, my feathers are non-existent. Should I then be ascared?

“Oh, that white one looks like Christmas.”

Do I look like Christmas, I wonder to myself. Maybe I should go albino and sport snowlike dandruff.

Maybe to combat this gross wanting of peacock, I should set my sights on a peahen to replace my peanut. From the same site on which Emily found peacocks listed for $120, I spotted a peahen for a mere $20. Not only is that considerably cheaper than the male version, but markedly cheaper than a peanut living in your house who finds a consistent attraction to Target an itch worthy of repeated and regular scratching.

A peahen is obviously the better option!