Ok, here's what I'm think'n.....break time. Don't matter what I do, I ain't go'n forward no matter how hard I try. Ever morn'n I wake up....thank God, I says...."well what we gonna do today"? An' I come up with bout a dozen little jobs that's been on the back burner for a while. Let's take for instance....them tools lay'n on the floor. I step over 'em bout 4 or 8 times a day. I mean like, it would only take 5 minutes an' there wouldn't be no tools lay'n on the floor to step over. An' then I come up with all kinds of excuses. *If I put my shoes (sandals) on, my feet is gonna hurt*. I been us'n that excuse for a couple weeks now with my swoled up feet. *Ya don't want to be do'n too much bend'n over to pick up stuff off'n the floor*. I might get all dizzy an' fall down*. *Ya gotta be careful ya don't track mud an' grass clip'n into "da house" an' then have to sweep the floors an' mop 'em*. Maybe better wait till the rains quit. See what I'm talk'n bout, all ligament excuses.
I got to think'n some more bout chickens. I like chicken ya know an' cook 'em up quite often. But in the last few years, my taste buds went south. Everthing tastes like chicken. A week ago, nephew Joseph bringed me some stuff he grilled up. I looks at it an' says....Ummmm....chicken. I eat some of it an' got to think'n....is this chicken? Later nephew Joseph asks me "how did you like the pork chops"? If everthing is gonna tase like chicken, I ain't gonna buy no more beef or pork....just chicken. Hmmmmm....think'n a big ol' chickburger here.
Speak'n of chicken burgers, it was back in bout 1954 or 55 in Palmdale, Ca.. Down on the corner was this little grocery store. Out front there was a box with a sign on it..."baby chicks, .25 cents apiece" an' there was only two left in the box. I sweeped the floor in that little grocery store an' took them two chicken puppys home with me. My little cat puppy, maybe 3 months old, didn't know what to think when I turn them chickens loose in the house. I now have a cat, two chickens an' the neighbors dog, what spend most his time sleep'n on the back porch.
In no time flat, the cat an' them baby chickens are best of buddys.....chase each other all over the little two room cottage. Have ya ever see a cat run'n round the room with a baby chicken in his mouth? Or have ya ever see two chickens attack, rough an' tumble, a cat when he is sleep'n. Play'n silly pet games.
Time passed by an' the cat is grow'n up an' them chicken puppys are almost full fledged chickens. Got all their feathers an' fly'n all over the place. By the way, the cat an' them chickens learn to poop on newspaper placed on the floor. No more step'n in chicken poop on the way to the bathroom.
One day, one them chickens escapes from the house. Out in the yard scratch'n an' eat'n up bugs an' stuff.The neighbor dog makes a lunge at that chicken, an'....no more escaped chicken. He kill my dad gum chicken an' hauls ass up the street with my dead pet chicken in his mouth. Bastard dog!!!!
In the mean time, my dad get's throwed in jail an' shipped off to Los Angeles for bout 10 days. Something to do with "drunk an' disorderly". In jail he meets up with some other drunk an' brings him home for a week. I lose my bed to a drunk an' while I'm at school, that drunk put on a pot of fresh chicken an' tater soup. There's something bout chickens that most people like....the taste I ain't got no pet chicken no more. My dad an' that drunk done eat it up. He also stole my radio an' hocked it at the little grocery for some beer an' a bottle of cheap wine. Dang I was glad when that guy went back to jail. I got my radio back, but I had to work off $3 before the grocer would turn it loose.
That was my last pet chicken.
On the down side, I been hurt'n like hell. This hip is kill'n me. An' then there's the feet. Swell'n is all down when I get out of bed of the morn'n, but a few hours later, they swelled up again. They hurt. My depression ain't no better, but I ain't made it to Walmart to buy up the St John's Wort yet. My mind has thoughts I wouldn't wish on my worstest enemy. Actually, I ain't got no worst enemies. I may get a little pissed, but they ain't enemies.
That's where I stand today....maybe tomorrow will be better.
I got to think'n some more bout chickens. I like chicken ya know an' cook 'em up quite often. But in the last few years, my taste buds went south. Everthing tastes like chicken. A week ago, nephew Joseph bringed me some stuff he grilled up. I looks at it an' says....Ummmm....chicken. I eat some of it an' got to think'n....is this chicken? Later nephew Joseph asks me "how did you like the pork chops"? If everthing is gonna tase like chicken, I ain't gonna buy no more beef or pork....just chicken. Hmmmmm....think'n a big ol' chickburger here.
Speak'n of chicken burgers, it was back in bout 1954 or 55 in Palmdale, Ca.. Down on the corner was this little grocery store. Out front there was a box with a sign on it..."baby chicks, .25 cents apiece" an' there was only two left in the box. I sweeped the floor in that little grocery store an' took them two chicken puppys home with me. My little cat puppy, maybe 3 months old, didn't know what to think when I turn them chickens loose in the house. I now have a cat, two chickens an' the neighbors dog, what spend most his time sleep'n on the back porch.
In no time flat, the cat an' them baby chickens are best of buddys.....chase each other all over the little two room cottage. Have ya ever see a cat run'n round the room with a baby chicken in his mouth? Or have ya ever see two chickens attack, rough an' tumble, a cat when he is sleep'n. Play'n silly pet games.
Time passed by an' the cat is grow'n up an' them chicken puppys are almost full fledged chickens. Got all their feathers an' fly'n all over the place. By the way, the cat an' them chickens learn to poop on newspaper placed on the floor. No more step'n in chicken poop on the way to the bathroom.
One day, one them chickens escapes from the house. Out in the yard scratch'n an' eat'n up bugs an' stuff.The neighbor dog makes a lunge at that chicken, an'....no more escaped chicken. He kill my dad gum chicken an' hauls ass up the street with my dead pet chicken in his mouth. Bastard dog!!!!
In the mean time, my dad get's throwed in jail an' shipped off to Los Angeles for bout 10 days. Something to do with "drunk an' disorderly". In jail he meets up with some other drunk an' brings him home for a week. I lose my bed to a drunk an' while I'm at school, that drunk put on a pot of fresh chicken an' tater soup. There's something bout chickens that most people like....the taste I ain't got no pet chicken no more. My dad an' that drunk done eat it up. He also stole my radio an' hocked it at the little grocery for some beer an' a bottle of cheap wine. Dang I was glad when that guy went back to jail. I got my radio back, but I had to work off $3 before the grocer would turn it loose.
That was my last pet chicken.
On the down side, I been hurt'n like hell. This hip is kill'n me. An' then there's the feet. Swell'n is all down when I get out of bed of the morn'n, but a few hours later, they swelled up again. They hurt. My depression ain't no better, but I ain't made it to Walmart to buy up the St John's Wort yet. My mind has thoughts I wouldn't wish on my worstest enemy. Actually, I ain't got no worst enemies. I may get a little pissed, but they ain't enemies.
That's where I stand today....maybe tomorrow will be better.
Yes chickens are good eating. Don't much like them for pets though.
ReplyDeleteJust keep thinking about things to do gonna keep you busy.
Maybe you should buy yourself a couple of baby chicks to keep you amused. I'd have wanted to kill the buy who cooked your pet chicken!
ReplyDeleteWe eat a lot of chicken. My wife will not eat red meat, so turkey and chicken are on a lot of our menus. Dang I am getting hungry, wonder what is for supper. Probably a salad.
ReplyDeleteI like turkey better than chicken, but I'll eat both of them.
ReplyDeleteMe and that dog would have to have come to an understanding. Same with the drunk!