The Diary Of A Chicken Lover
Day 666 of no internet connection.
I feel as though I am lost amid a sea of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate and I’ve just been diagnosed as lactose intolerant. I think that I may be going ever so slightly mad. It has been many months since we last had any internet connection and I’m beginning to suspect that both the Spawn and I, are slowly losing our faculties.
Last week and without wont of anything better to do, we decided to leave our self imposed prison and go out into the garden to get some much needed fresh air. We sought to kill two birds with one stone by way of getting in some form of exercise whilst we were at it. And so that’s just what we did…killed two birds with one stone. Granted, the stone was more of a boulder and the birds were only young chicks but the combined effort needed to pick up such a huge piece of rock and to crush the ever loving life, blood out of those dear vulnerable creatures, reminded us how in times of need, we could both bond together to work as part of a team.
In our efforts to keep fit and to halt the ever rapid process of steadily going bat-shit crazy, we decided to play a game of ‘catch’. It proved to be a great day for all. Much fun was had as we passed the object of our throws back and forth all the while laughing gleefully and just a tad hysterically. Unfortunately, we soon run out of feces and had to venture back indoors.
Today I was feeling somewhat forlorn and a little forsaken and so decided to do something that I hadn’t done since I was a child. But without any spare matches to hand, my pyromaniac tendencies had to remain unsated. I then decided to do something else that I hadn’t done since I was a kid and that was to pray. I spoke to God about the futility of my existence and about how I felt undervalued, as though I didn’t exist. I told him how I always felt as though others reacted to me as if they couldn’t see me, as though my very presence led to the credence that I was there only to be instantly forgotten. To which the Good Lord did reply, “Fuck! Who said that?” Bastard!
I fear that insanity may soon be upon us. After making preparations for the evening meal, I then decided to flex my cerebral muscle by challenging Spawn to five rounds of highly competitive chess. Unfortunately, it took me almost 30 minutes to discover that I had in fact been playing with a frozen chicken and that Spawn had been nicely roasting upon the middle shelf of the oven at a temperature of gas mark 5. And although a little crispy around the edges, he tasted lovely with a Cesar salad and a bottle of Chianti.
The frozen chicken won all five rounds.
Feeling much better today. I seriously thought that I was well on the way to having a nervous breakdown. But after having a heart to heart with the frozen chicken, I soon realized that there was life away from the computer. If it wasn’t for Kevin Fredrick Chickenson, or KFC as I like to call him, I swear that I would be in an asylum right now. We’ve become really close over these last few weeks and there’s even been talk of a wedding. Bless him, he’s so excited that he’s been running around all day like a headless chicken…which is natural of course, since he is one.
My love is dead. Kevin Fredrick Chickenson passed away this morning after tripping over some marbles that had been placed randomly and rather mysteriously, upon the kitchen floor. Having plunged headlong into the oven, which had been conspicuously left open and set at a temperature of 180 degrees, he is sadly no more. His ashes will be spread over two slices of Mighty White along with a dash of mayonnaise and a couple slices of pickles.
Yep, I’ve finally lost the plot...
*Reposted from the original blog on 5th May 2014