He slid into bed, kissed his wife on the cheek and fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke before the Pearly Gates.

St Peter said, “You died in your sleep, Ralph.”

Ralph was stunned.  “I’m dead?  No, I can’t be!  I’ve got too much to live for.  Send me back!”

St Peter said, “Hmm, perhaps that could be arranged.  It does involves a lot of paperwork… but sure.  You’ve got two alternatives: you can come back as a fish or as a hen.”

Ralph never liked swimming, and thought that perhaps being a hen wouldn’t be that bad after all.  Walking around pecking at the ground, no stress, and if the local rooster was nice then perhaps it could be a comfortable existence.

Ralph replied, “Okay, then I choose to be a hen.”

The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking, and pecking the ground.