Skip to main content

The White Chicken Mystery

    The other night I happened to come home very late. It was the middle of the night and I was driving up a steep mountain road. Near the top I saw something white in my headlights. It was standing in the other lane, standing very still. It was a large white chicken. It was probably a rooster because I thought I could see his comb as I whizzed by at my customary pace. He never moved a muscle. This is weird, don't you think?
     After a couple of days to consider this phenomenon, I have come up with some plausible answers for his bizarre behavior.
1. He was conflicted whether or not he should cross the road.
2. He was feeling cocky and decided to play chicken with the traffic.
3.He was being hen-pecked at home and had decided to end it all.
4. Someone had egged him on to do it.
5. He had just watched the movie Fantastic Four and decided to try to stop a truck the way that Ben Grimm did on the bridge.
6. He had driven himself crazy wondering if he had come first, or the darn egg had.
7. He was a detective, trying to find out where all the darn eggs were going. Could they really trust those humans up at the big, white house?
8. He had just peeked through the window of a house and seen someone playing Chictionary and just couldn't deal with it.
9. In a few hours he was to participate in an important cock-fight. He was either looking for a priest or was calling "Yo, Adrian!"
10. His feelings were hurt because some chick had accused him of having a comb-over.
     On the same trip home I drove by a church, out in the boondocks. There was a car in the parking lot with lights on and engine running. The driver, a female, was holding a flashlight under her chin. I suspect she may be a future contestant on the game show Baggage. The truth is, there are always interesting things to see, if you are observant. From the author's green retreat. I'm CE Wills.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Biscuit

    Hey, everyone. What a relief that Christmas is over, huh? I don't think it was meant to be the way it is.     I started thinking about the so-called good 'ole days today. My wife says that at her house, they would take a left-over biscuit and shine their shoes before church. I one-upped her by saying, "Oh, yeah? I ate the biscuit when everyone got finished with it. And I was grateful for it." Truly, though, you can and people did, shine their shoes with a biscuit. Hey, they were greasy little buggers.     Speaking of greasy little buggers, I remember when everyone had wells and were very conservative about water, particularly those of us who had to crank a handle up and down to get a bucket of water. There was no daily bath. (No showers in those days, mate.) About twice a week we took a bath and here's the recipe: The oldest kid took a bath first, then the next oldest etc. You can see why younger siblings hated the older. Bathing in the...

Shadowgun: Killing The Windbreaker

    Hey, everyone. I thought it might be a good time for a bit of an update on the riveting game called Shadowgun. Consider this your spoiler alert and tune out if you want to.     Once you get past the dreaded Driller, things get better but you are certainly not out of the woods. You will want to make sure you keep a full clip in your gun as you stroll through the realm of the evil and crazy Dr. Simon. But hey, you're John Slade, the Shadowgun, and wherever you set your foot is the place to which your authority extends.      I love the way that some of the barriers disintegrate under the impact of bullets. I didn't learn this at my mother's knee but I darn sure know it now. I have learned that there are certain places it is good to plan on using the rocket launcher. Keep your stock of those filled. There are these transporter guys who are aggressive punks. The only way they respect you is if you kill them, so that's the way I roll. As...