I'm headed out back to our kitchen to put my plate away from breakfast. Our kitchen is in an outbuilding about 20 feet behind the main house. On the short walk, I pass a water spigot that doubles as our dishwasher (when combined with soap and elbow grease), and a new feature.
This morning, there's a live chicken hanging out there. I stop because it's unusual. Not unusual because there's a live chicken. Unusual because the cook hasn't started work yet and the chicken is here already, which means she spent the night here. Also, her legs are free, and usually our meals are trussed up to keep them within cooking range. Maybe she has unfortunately wandered into our kitchen area, but probably she's a late purchase from the day before, ready and waiting for lunch.
I shall call her... 'Delicious.'
This morning, there's a live chicken hanging out there. I stop because it's unusual. Not unusual because there's a live chicken. Unusual because the cook hasn't started work yet and the chicken is here already, which means she spent the night here. Also, her legs are free, and usually our meals are trussed up to keep them within cooking range. Maybe she has unfortunately wandered into our kitchen area, but probably she's a late purchase from the day before, ready and waiting for lunch.
I shall call her... 'Delicious.'
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