Slandering The Chicken

Last Saturday, HH and the #1 son drove up to Basementia Buddy's rural enclave and picked up two chickens. You see, according to the #1 son who played paintball there with her son a while back, she has plenty of chickens to spare. Even though she did a good deed and adopted a chicken-eating dog. She found that pooch a new home, and still had around 30 chickens left for people to beg for. The same can't be said for her parrot, which dropped dead the day of or after the big paintball war.

As told by the #1 son, BB left the boys (five of them) unattended while she drove into town to pick up some White Castles for lunch. Remind me to pick THAT bone with BB later, because that is one thing you do not want my son to eat. Not if you're going to be in an enclosed area with him during the next 24 hours. Anyhoo, Basementia Buddy arose the next morning, and there lay her parrot, dead as a doornail on the bottom of his cage. I asked what the boys did to him while BB was in town. "Nothing. Basketball Boy was trying to talk to it, putting his finger into the cage, saying 'Hello, birdie.' We didn't do anything to it." That's his story and he's stickin' to it.

So...after the 1st Annual Hillmomba Chicken Massacre a few weeks back, we were left with a lonely rooster, Survivor. HH, who thinks chickens are free for the asking, wanted me to ask BB for two hens. Needing to keep BB in my stable of insiders at Basementia, I offered to buy two hens. I shared the story of HH, Chicken Rancher, with her. I thought she was going to choke on her own spit. She said she would ask her husband. The next day, she said, "Well, Mr. BB had had a few last night, and he said, 'I think I can give that HH two chickens for a 12 pack of beer.' So whenever you want them, you can come get them."

HH and the boy went to pick up the chickens. They paid the bounty, and brought home a black chicken with little spots of white and a comb on its head, and a solid orange chicken. And they're still alive. HH put them in the dog/chicken pen with Survivor. He built them the Cadillac of chicken roosts. Every morning, The Pony says, "Dad, did they lay any eggs?" And HH goes out to check, and reports sadly, "No. No eggs." BB told us they were laying. I say they are stressed out. HH has begun to blame the chickens.

"That black one is a rooster. I just know it. It has a comb on its head. It tried to fight with Survivor. That black one is just stupid. It won't even go in the roost. It sits on the water bowl all night." Then he decided that maybe, what with the clipped wings, it couldn't get up into the roost. So he built it a ramp. It continues to sleep outside. Still no eggs. HH wants to ask for a six-pack back.

Basementia Buddy would be very upset to hear that HH is slandering her chicken.