Tonight there was actually chicken to be had. In an excellent case of Kedi Mind Control, I managed to get the youngest female to ask her mother if she could have some of the rotisserie chicken from the fridge. The mother was delighted and cut ten nice, juicy bites up. The child ate five bites and put the bowl in the counter for me.
Barbecue sauce not withstanding, it smelled divine. I sniffed the air for a few minutes while I waited for everyone to go upstairs. As I sniffed I imagined a young chicken walking around the corner while I lay in wait next to the barn. I sprung upon it and broke its neck, relishing the feel of its feathers against my lips. I rip hunks of feathers out in a flurry of activity and ...
My people were upstairs, the mother the only one around and she was staring st her black light box, seated at the table. I jumped on the counter, grabbed 60% of my treasure and was back on the floor before she noticed. I think. Delicious.
Sometime later the mother gave me a few bites.
Carefully I pulled the chicken from her fingers. No sense in biting the hand that feeds me.
It was delicious. Chicken wicken, tastes like turkey.
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