The Chicken Story


As I stand on the street corner a chicken struts by.
Now, understand, I live in the city
with traffic, like buses and cars, kids with bikes,
and houses sittin’ on top of each other.
“Hey, Chicken!” I says. “Where the hell did you come from?”
That chicken stopped dead;
turned its ugly chicken head and stared me down.
I stared right back. I aint backin’ down from no damn ugly chicken.
Then it started comin’ at me.
“Whoa!” I yelled. “Whoa there Chicken! I take it back. I ain’t lookin’ for no fight!”
I remembered seein’ chickens fight’n on the TV.
Some big-shot football player got into hot water for holdin’ chicken fightin’ contests in his mansion.
Them chickens can take a lickin’.
I started backin’ away from this thing, but he just kept comin’ at me.
“Hey Chicken, I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost or somethin’.”
That chicken stopped and looked me over. Creeped Me Out!
Lucky for him my bus pulled up. Just in time so’s I didn’t have to do somthin’ I’d be sorry for.
That’s one damn lucky duck! Er…Chicken.

(this was written at a woman’s writers lunch meeting at a prompt. we were given five minutes to write. the first sentence was the prompt. it has been mildly edited)