My Pet Chicken

Here is a 2nd excerpt from my latest book. It is a short essay titled "Teepee"  Enjoy.

For two weeks, I had a pet chicken named Teepee. Most children would have called it Spot or Chicken. That’s because most children are imbeciles. On the other hand, I was a creative and eccentric tyke. Atypical, you could say. Dad constructed a holding cage, pointy at the top, resembling the shape of a well known Indian dwelling, hence the name Teepee. See? Creative. On sunny days I would make numerous failed attempts at draping a leash around my feathered companion’s neck in hopes of walking her around the block while whistling Oh, Susannah. See? Eccentric.

Being surrounded by a plethora of narrow minded adults meant neighborhood parents viewed my efforts at chicken interaction through fearful eyes. Clinical insanity crossed their minds whenever I tossed a stick at the flustered fowl and yelled, “FETCH GIRL!”

 
  It hurt knowing Teepee was not flattered by the vast amounts of attention I offered. Trying to cradle her like a baby    often resulted in vicious undertakings to peck out my eyes with a needle-sharp beak. She would also flap her wings at amazing speeds thus transforming herself into Kamikaze poultry.

 

 There was little else to do but put her back in the triangular cage and watch her do nothing, while nourishing her on a steady diet of peanut butter & jelly spread over crackers, as well as birthday cake. Yes, you read correctly. Birthday cake. There was so much left over from my tenth birthday party that mom suggested feeding some to the little clucker.

 
It was perplexing how much I loved that bird even though it couldn’t stand my presence for more than a nanosecond. We can relate to this even in adulthood when we are mesmerized by people who do not acknowledge, nor care about, our trifling existence. They blow off all of our genuine attempts at friendship or courtship, each stinging rejection creating a deeper desire to get closer. Well, I loved that eye-pecking whore of a hen with all my heart. One afternoon, I returned from school to find an empty cage with an open door. Mom and dad emerged from the forest, filled with despair.

 

 

"We’re so sorry honey. Teepee escaped,” cried mom.

"Mea culpa, son. The cage door wasn’t secured,” said dad.

I was not angry at my parents, although I cried for hours, dreaming about the horrific encounters Teepee must’ve had with rabid squirrels and famished wolves. I was certain she was dead. It was quiet at the dinner table that evening. A lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow the delectable meal consisting of fried chicken breast which tasted an awful lot like birthday cake.

Want to read more? Chronicles & Opinions of a Nobody is available at
http://site.michaelangelothewriter.com/Buy_My_Book.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted by MichaelAngelo at 23 Jun 2010, 12:30 PM
Categories: Social Awkwardness
Tags: comedy Teepee memior birthday cake chicken humor
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