JournalWord: Chicken
::
She cocks her head
up, staggering her crown as she stares, unabashed at me through the window.
As if to grind my
nerves even further, she scratches at the ground with her demonic talons,
further tearing apart the head of lettuce she has currently torn to
smithereens.
Suddenly she flaps
her wings widely, ruffling her grey speckled white feathers and releasing a
wail to summon her brethren to the slaughter of my garden.
Clenching my jaw as
my assumption proves correct with the horde of beady-eyed devils cluck
maniacally as they clamber towards the hole in my garden fence, I turn away
from the window with intent in my mind.
"He loves
chickens. What man has a chicken obsession!"
I clutter the
kitchen in my search for the biggest cleaver in the house, and when I find it,
tucked safely in its matching block behind the canola oil and flour, I come to
terms that this winter, we won't have any canned vegetables.
That's fine. It
looks like this year we'll just have to live off meat.
::
Well, now I'm off for bed after a long day of shopping (clothes! shoes!) :P
Keep cheery!
mera.
