Poultry Problems 2

The chicken problem I was telling you about?

It, uh, hasn’t really gotten any better.

I woke up this morning to a chicken being chasing out of the house. I groaned, rolled over, and pulled the blankets over my head. Like always.

But the chicken didn’t get chased out of the house. It got chased into my room.

And while everyone else was running around trying to find it, it was balancing on my face.

My habit of yanking the sheets over my head finally came in handy! (I’m just trying to forget that if I had gotten out of bed when I was supposed to, that wouldn’t have mattered.)

I tried to yell for help, but the chicken had its foot on my mouth. Chicken feet are popular here, in soup, grilled, and other stuff, but I wasn’t interested. No way.

Everyone came into the kid’s room, and I wondered why that was the last place they would look. While I was in there, suffering.

I wiggled my toes to announce my presence. Okay, I sort of kicked my feet, and hard. Had I not been using my hands to keep the blanket up and the chicken out, it would have been about a full blown tantrum.

“Madeline? Are you under there?”  Abigail shrieked.

Mom and Dad knocked the chicken off my face.

Elijah chased it out, screaming gibberish and flailing his arms.

“I can breathe!” I said, pulling the blanket away from my face. “Where were you?! I was dying! I had a chicken-” I paused, and smoothed my frizzy hair down. I proceeded slowly to help them understand how deadly the situation had really been. “I had a chicken on my head,”

And then everybody laughed.

Like it was funny or something.

-Madeline