July 7, 2009

Tale Feathers of the Silver Chicken

The silver chicken peered down the dark alley. It took a long gulp and proceeded along with a clickity-clack on the blacktop. It was then a rat skittered out from behind a dumpster. Now while rats may startle you and me, to a chicken they're rather deadly. The chicken gave a little chirpy gulp and cantered down the alley with a quickness only seen in chickens that have lost their head.

The chicken was nearly home free when it heard the clackity sound of running feet becoming ever more noticeable. "I sure am running fast,” thought the chicken. But not a moment later the chicken realized the clacking was not his own feet. They didn't have that distinct metal sound. It was more like nails and hundreds of them. The chicken dared a glance back and saw a plague of rats nearly on his tail feathers. "This just won't do,” thought the frightened chicken; and he began to flap his wings in a fettered panic. In fact, the chicken’s panic was so great that most of the time it was running on air.

The rats were getting closer and closer, the chicken could hear them squeaking in delight of the expectant meal. It was then the worst possible thing happened, the chicken tripped on over it's own feet in mid-air. Somersaulted and landed flat on it's back. The rats swarmed the chicken and dove in to what was to be a great feast. It was then cries of pain came from the rats, for you see it was a silver chicken and they all had chipped their teeth on the wretched thing.

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