Because I conjured up a mental image of a fat couch potato spying a rather banging babe outside. He knows he needs her. But he's so obese he can't get up-- and his body is no gold trophy to look at in the first place. But he just can't resist her. So a revolutionary idea occurs to him: sex... over the phone. Phone sex. That's how it happens. Wait... there never was a chicken? Oh geez... then who have I spent the last few hours with talking about eggs, bland feed, and those darn devious foxes?