Beaking Out
Over the next couple of days I am going to be slamming this blog with entries so that while I am on vacation you all don’t have withdrawals or anything. Shit to keep you busy while I am away.
So I was thinking about chickens earlier, and couldn’t remember if I ever shared this story.
I used to like chickens, a very long time ago. I still like them at present, but dead and on a plate covered in sauce to mock their feathery way of walking so proud.
When I was about 8 years old my mother handed me an empty platter and told me to scattle my ass next door and return it to a neighbor. I went.
The wind picked up, the dust rolled, maybe even a stray lofty roll of sagebrush flew by….. and there she was.
Watching me, watching her. We were gaze locked for a good while.
I thought to run, but remembered the platter and that going home to my mother saying a chicken…. Not a rooster…. A fucking bitch ass hen had chased me away, well the ridicule would have been rough.
Every step forward I took, the hen matched it. When I froze, she froze. We were having quite the battle. Every now and then she’d scratch into the dirt with those chicken-y claws as if she may charge at anytime much how a gunslinger fingers his holster to play the mind games.
I ran to the door, rang the bell, slapped the platter onto the porch and bolted like fuck because I faintly heard the sound of dirt being scrambled and feet slipping around trying to gather speed.
The chicken got me. This was an attack chicken and I still have a scar from where she pecked me good and hard in the shin and instead of punting that asshole I ran screaming Mama!
Mama’s always make things ok, even if I didn’t consider at that time that she was the one who sent me into battle instead of doing it herself. Did Mama know Soldier Chicken was pacing it’s rounds and sent me as an offering? One never can say.
Since then, no use for them. Not that I ever thought them useful, birds that can’t fly and what not. I wish I’d gotten revenge on that bitch, but I was young and easily scared off, ya know, once something makes you bleed it gets new respect.
All for now. Don’t read everything I write up too fast or you’ll have no DM for the next 10 days. Must pace selves. /grins
-DM
So I was thinking about chickens earlier, and couldn’t remember if I ever shared this story.
I used to like chickens, a very long time ago. I still like them at present, but dead and on a plate covered in sauce to mock their feathery way of walking so proud.
When I was about 8 years old my mother handed me an empty platter and told me to scattle my ass next door and return it to a neighbor. I went.
The wind picked up, the dust rolled, maybe even a stray lofty roll of sagebrush flew by….. and there she was.
Watching me, watching her. We were gaze locked for a good while.
I thought to run, but remembered the platter and that going home to my mother saying a chicken…. Not a rooster…. A fucking bitch ass hen had chased me away, well the ridicule would have been rough.
Every step forward I took, the hen matched it. When I froze, she froze. We were having quite the battle. Every now and then she’d scratch into the dirt with those chicken-y claws as if she may charge at anytime much how a gunslinger fingers his holster to play the mind games.
I ran to the door, rang the bell, slapped the platter onto the porch and bolted like fuck because I faintly heard the sound of dirt being scrambled and feet slipping around trying to gather speed.
The chicken got me. This was an attack chicken and I still have a scar from where she pecked me good and hard in the shin and instead of punting that asshole I ran screaming Mama!
Mama’s always make things ok, even if I didn’t consider at that time that she was the one who sent me into battle instead of doing it herself. Did Mama know Soldier Chicken was pacing it’s rounds and sent me as an offering? One never can say.
Since then, no use for them. Not that I ever thought them useful, birds that can’t fly and what not. I wish I’d gotten revenge on that bitch, but I was young and easily scared off, ya know, once something makes you bleed it gets new respect.
All for now. Don’t read everything I write up too fast or you’ll have no DM for the next 10 days. Must pace selves. /grins
-DM
posted by DMorgan's Zoo at
2:07 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home