Gran'ma Ben telling Fone and Phoney to get some chickens prepared for dinner...
Gran'ma Ben: I want you boys to catch yourselves four chickens! When Smiley's got that water nice an' hot, dip th' birds in it! I want every one of them feathers gone, so soak 'em good! I better be smellin' wet feathers back here! Foo! There's a smell you don't forget too quick!
Fone Bone: Omygosh. We're gonna boil 'em alive?!
Gran'ma Ben: Of course not, dear. You're gonna cut their heads off first.
Phoney: With what?
Gran'ma Ben: With th' hatchet.
Phoney: Uh... Are they gonna... y'know... Run around the yard? Squirtin' blood an' stuff?
Gran'ma Ben: What's th' matter? Ain't you boys ever choppped th' head off a chicken before?
Phoney, Fone Bone: Uh... uh...
Gran'ma Ben: Oh fer heaven's sakes! If ya can't handle a little flappin' around, just grab th' chicken by th' neck an' give her a good crank over your head — that'll kill her first!
Phoney, Fone Bone: *
Jaw Drop, look like they'll be sick, then faint.*
Gran'ma Ben: *grabbing a hatchet and marching out of panel* Hmmf. City boys!