About the Chicken

After sharing my chicken story, I got this email reply from my mommy friend Susannah, with whom I had visited in the park on that fateful chicken-killing morning. We don’t know each other all that well yet, so it seems she wasn’t sure how I’d receive her message. Truth is, I laughed my ass off! 

“Well, I hope by now you realize that that chicken actually committed suicide – didn’t you read the note she had scratched in the sand box? She was tired of Fair Oaks being overrun by wealthy gentry who think they know everything, like the speed of four wheeled vehicles they aren’t in command of. Both of them actually had a plan to go together, but alas, only one succeeded. The other will live to tell other chickens of her fight and sacrifice.

Joke: What happens when you cross a milipede with a chicken? Drumsticks for everyone.

And, for his next birthday you should get Lucas a banjo. He sounds like a hell of a picker.

Ok, I really hope you are laughing and not totally pissed at me. Point is, I would have been horrified if it had been me. Horrified. Sick. But, I want you to realize it was just a little bird, not a cat, not a dog (I would have read you the riot act for that), a bird that millions eat everyday. Except for me. Blah. She had a good chicken life, eating lots of whole sprouted wheat hotdog buns and organic cheetos, keeping fit by playing tag in the park to keep away from middle class kids wearing play shoes more expensive than any dress pair I own. She slept under the stars and dreamt of someday actually flying. She had a good life, and she’s flying now as we speak, dropping heavenly chicken poop on all those Fair Oaksians she so depised before she threw herself under your tires.

If you are pissed, I am so sorry, I take back every word and I will come out and help you have a small memorial for her. I’ll make egg salad for the snack.

Laugh, Sara, after you’ve had that really stiff cosmo. Or two. Hell, it’s almost the weekend. You are not bad!!”

Thanks, Susannah!

3 Responses to “About the Chicken”

  • dakini_grl
    June 27, 2008 at 12:05 pm

    I didn’t know you killed a chicken. Did you kill a chicken? Now I’m assuming. How did I miss this story?


  • dakini_grl
    June 27, 2008 at 12:08 pm

    I found the story. That man was a jerk. Susannah is right. I think I will buy you a margarita the next time we’re out together.


  • sarabellae
    June 27, 2008 at 7:39 pm

    Thanks! I love you! And I LOVE margaritas.


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  • About Sara

    Thanks for visiting! I’m Sara, editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother of two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster. This is where I write about living, loving, and engaging fully in family life and the world around me. I let my hair down here. I learn new skills here. I strive to be a better human being here. And I tell the truth.

    Our children attend Waldorf school and we are enriching our home and family life with plenty of Waldorf-inspired festivals, crafts, and stories.

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    “Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.” —Ursula K. LeGuinn

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