This is my chicken
There are many out there like him but this one is mine. His name is Chicken.
He is one week old here and the size of a fuzzy feathered golf ball. He follows me everywhere.and I quite like him. See his feet? They are like my delicate size 9 feet minus the webbing. And perhaps the sharp toe nails. Every day I go out into the garden and fetch him worms like a good chicken looker afterer. In the beginning, I would slide the dirt off the worms for him with my long slender fingers and then RIP them into bite sized pieces for him because I am a kind mother fucker like that. The worms would wiggle and squiggle on the ground and like the true chicken he was, he would eagle eye them and gobble them up. Soon I was flicking them about the yard miles away so that it was a little game with him and I.
When he got to 3 weeks, I decided fuck this, slimy shit all over my long delicate fingers all the ding dang time; now I was flicking the worms long and dirty juuust like my fingers. I trained him to crawl up my leg as I sat in the yard in my ratty bathrobe drinking and he would sit on my lap. One day the chicken and I are communing together, him sitting on my finger and me sitting on my rather plump bum and I was telling him what a great chicken he was and he was eyeing my bloodshot eyes intently as I talked to him. There was much chirping going on as I have his chirps down to a science.
All asudden he LUNGED at my eye, people, with his sharp beak and all and because of severe inebriation, I did not blink. He had just pecked me in the eye. In my NAKED eye. I did not choke the chicken as I wanted to do because I figured it was partially my fault. He thought my eye was a worm or some such and went for it. But really? I think he was just being a dink. I forgave him right away though. So then I had big plans to take him on my bike in a basket on the front. Can you picture me riding around with a chicken on my bike? Yeah, sure you can. Here's my new circa 80's bike. A fine looking specimen, isn't it? Minus the shitty cell phone pic.
But before I got the chance to do this, I was hanging out in the yard with my chicken, free range style with me and my saggy balls hanging out of my ratty bathrobe and him just being, you know, a chicken. I was smiling because how can you not smile when a featherball is running about at your feet. Chicken was about 10 feet away from me when a large falcon swept into the yard and CARRIED HIM AWAY!
Hey, wouldn't that be neat if it really happened? And I had my camera at the ready? No, it didn't happen - he just ran away from home, the ingrate. I kept him in a cage at night but apparently, the grass is greener on the other side of the fence during the day. If you see my chicken, let me know. His name is Chicken.
He is one week old here and the size of a fuzzy feathered golf ball. He follows me everywhere.and I quite like him. See his feet? They are like my delicate size 9 feet minus the webbing. And perhaps the sharp toe nails. Every day I go out into the garden and fetch him worms like a good chicken looker afterer. In the beginning, I would slide the dirt off the worms for him with my long slender fingers and then RIP them into bite sized pieces for him because I am a kind mother fucker like that. The worms would wiggle and squiggle on the ground and like the true chicken he was, he would eagle eye them and gobble them up. Soon I was flicking them about the yard miles away so that it was a little game with him and I.
When he got to 3 weeks, I decided fuck this, slimy shit all over my long delicate fingers all the ding dang time; now I was flicking the worms long and dirty juuust like my fingers. I trained him to crawl up my leg as I sat in the yard in my ratty bathrobe drinking and he would sit on my lap. One day the chicken and I are communing together, him sitting on my finger and me sitting on my rather plump bum and I was telling him what a great chicken he was and he was eyeing my bloodshot eyes intently as I talked to him. There was much chirping going on as I have his chirps down to a science.
All asudden he LUNGED at my eye, people, with his sharp beak and all and because of severe inebriation, I did not blink. He had just pecked me in the eye. In my NAKED eye. I did not choke the chicken as I wanted to do because I figured it was partially my fault. He thought my eye was a worm or some such and went for it. But really? I think he was just being a dink. I forgave him right away though. So then I had big plans to take him on my bike in a basket on the front. Can you picture me riding around with a chicken on my bike? Yeah, sure you can. Here's my new circa 80's bike. A fine looking specimen, isn't it? Minus the shitty cell phone pic.
But before I got the chance to do this, I was hanging out in the yard with my chicken, free range style with me and my saggy balls hanging out of my ratty bathrobe and him just being, you know, a chicken. I was smiling because how can you not smile when a featherball is running about at your feet. Chicken was about 10 feet away from me when a large falcon swept into the yard and CARRIED HIM AWAY!
Hey, wouldn't that be neat if it really happened? And I had my camera at the ready? No, it didn't happen - he just ran away from home, the ingrate. I kept him in a cage at night but apparently, the grass is greener on the other side of the fence during the day. If you see my chicken, let me know. His name is Chicken.