I meant to tell you about the chickens. When I came back from Olcott Beach, I discovered that two chickens had taken up residence on the lawn of an apartment complex across the street. Right, OK – but I don’t live on Old MacDonald’s Farm. I live in Chicago.
I took a few photos of the chickens. One is white and one is black – together they were the Yin and Yang of free-range urban life.
Everyone who walked the street stopped to gawk at the chickens in the bushes. Dogs pulled against their leashes trying to get a whiff and a taste. I fed the chickens popcorn and, as a much as I enjoyed the diversion, it occurred to me that I should lend a hand towards getting the chickens off the street. The idea was to have a county employee stop by (maybe in a red convertible) and offer the chickens a ride to a fairyland/coop, where they could raise chicks and live as one. Like a big dummy, I called the local administrative office about the chickens but was told that my neighborhood has no animal control officers and to (more or less) suck it. I thought that was the end of it until the cops came.
The cops beat the bushes with their batons, hoping to scare the chickens out of hiding. This did not work. Also, it was about 500 degrees that day and everyone knows that patience fries at anything above 85. The cops left a young man behind to figure it out. He was wearing official-looking khakis and a polo shirt, so I’m guessing he must have been some kind of trainee with no seniority. The man brought an empty file box with him, just like the kind you have in your office. It was so, so not a convertible.
While the baton swinging and waiting game went on, residents at the apartment complex became agitated. It started with a blond woman in a tube top, who was announcing to neighbors and passers-by that the cops were after the chickens. “Can you believe it? Who would call up on the chickens?”
Other tube-topped people came out to peek and old ladies with dogs stopped and stared. One geezer in a t-shirt and boxers came outside on his walker. “Leave the chickens alone!” he yelled. “They aren’t hurting anyone! Leave them alone!” Ut oh.
I’m watching all of this and I’m thinking, “Holy shit. These people hate me now! They think I hate the chickens!” I cursed my happy daydream about chicken parks with fountains and golden nests. Just then, Khaki Boy caught the white chicken and shoved it into a box.
The young man was growing weary - of the complaints, the heat, who knows? He split and left the chicken of color behind. Poor little dark meat is still on the street. Isn’t that always how it goes?
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17 comments:
Poor chickens!! Now pollo negro doesn't have any chicken friends to cluck around with.... :)
I know - isn't it sad? None of the other birds will hang out with him.
Aha! See? For a lot of people, chickens are food. Sub-genre number two!
At any rate, one does not become a two time Mike's Blog Golden Keyboard Award winner by ignoring the"Writers' Trinity": food, sex, and poo. This is why Mojo is a pro blogguer and we are mere bloggettes.
Also -- and this is what I am really here to say --
It ain't easy to give a chicken story social import the way Mojo can. You think YOU can do it? Have at it! Me? I know my place.
PS-- Once again, those goody-goodies at C&L scrubbed my post. Simply for wondering out loud if glenn beck's leaky tear duct problem could not be cured with a shotgun blast to the face. And I meant it charitably. No matter what I say over there, they always treat me like some scrotch soaked cynic with an attitude. That is why I always retreat to Mojopost to lick my wounds. Mojo understands me.
I know that feeling, when you think, you're doing a good thing but the others can't see it. Sooner or later, the chickens will realize you meant it good.
LV
Anony - agreed. They don't like any references of physical violence at C&L, implied or in jest. Idiots from the right take satire out of context, but don't they do that anyway? I understand moderating forums with one set of rules for everyone, but what about obvious humor? Why should clever, funny people have to be penalized because other people are morons? I have also been moderated over there. I stopped populating the forums because there are so many times I can read the word "sheeple". One more sheeple and someone gets popped!
See, I told you Mojo understands me.
Yep, Mojo. I guess there are levels of pacifism. I'm only committed to the first level: Don't fuck with me and I won't fuck with you. That might not encompass the ideal.
I'm probably not a good person. But nobody has to know whether I'm good OR bad as long as they don't fuck with me, which is all I ask. You?
"Mojo understands me."
So say we all.
If Ms Po doesn't post in the next twenty-four hours, I will explode.
She's a hard mistress, I tells ya!
Anyone that would call the cops on chickens has lived in the damn city too long or sat on their ass in front a TV. People like that disgust me. Still feeling negative. Hearing someone would call the cops on chickens reinforces my suspicion of modern fellow man.
We do need death panels. They can discuss how long a society can go on thinking like this and survive...
Watch out, pig. Imma report you!
OK, without smoking I have had to abandon the Internet. It's only short term, until I learn how to type without a smoke in my piehole.
I am so trying hard.
A good trick is to only smoke outside or balcony so you get used to not having a smoke at the computer constantly burning.
I stopped smoking inside and it's cut my habit in half. And it seems to go down from there remembering the last time I did this. It gets to be too much trouble to go stop what you are doing and get up and have a smoke.
Report me for what? wow... I thought I was safe here.... :@)
Did I hear Mojo say she needs a guest bloguer while she secedes from the Demon Weed, yes?
Sweetie pie, there are people in detox centers who are not going through what you are going through right now. Nicotine is just that addictive. You can do it.
To fight two addictions (nicotine and internet) at the same time is hell! We are with you.
LV
Awww Mojo!! We miss ya! I hope you're doing fine fighting your nicotine addiction. It really does get better....
Thanks for the support. There is light at the end of the tunnel!!
Pig - I smoked outside, always, but when I tried to type I "smoked out" my ideas with a butt. Outside is where I could put things together in my head, to bring back to the keyboard. Now I am relearning.
A guest blogger, you say? I would certainly consider that.
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