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unimpressed sounding Chicken.
That s me!
I can t say I m not disappointed. To think that my brothers
and cousins were killed to provide people with meals at Easter and
Christmas!
The five of them slept soundly that night around the orange
embers of the camp fire. Julius farting, Jesus snoring and
ejaculating, Benjamin dreaming of Jane, the Chicken of a corn fed
only farm without oestrogen injections or batteries and Wilson of
women in French maid outfits.
They woke the next morning to the sound of Julius praying
on his knees.
Oh fuck all that bollocks! snarled Jesus rolling over. Shut
up will you? Some of us are trying to sleep!
An hour later Wilson had them up all marching into the
jungle. He weaved a gown out of leaves for Jesus to wear so that
he wouldn t be naked.
But I like the air rushing either side of my scrotum! he
said.
It s most off putting seeing a man s penis all day long,
Wilson told him. Your father certainly lacked aesthetic skill and
imagination when it came to that!
Yes, it looks like a dead turkey hanging upside down in a
slaughterhouse, agreed the Chicken.
Don t you ever shut up? snapped Julius. Wilson? Tell him
to keep quiet! That Chicken only listens to you!
I really think we should give you a name! enthused Wilson
stroking the little chap affectionately on the head. To refer to you
as the Chicken must bore you. Do you have a name by any
chance?
No I don t, now you come to mention it!
I ve got a few names we can call him, started Julius.
How about Pontius? suggested Jesus.
Or Reginald? added Benjamin.
Kentucky Fried? Julius said. He d look better like that and
we wouldn t hear a peep!
We ll try coming up with a name for you, Wilson said
before stopping as they reached a clearing. Look at that! He
pointed ahead of them so that they all looked.
We must be somewhere on the Chinese coast! cried
Benjamin as they jogged down towards the sea. But how are we
going to get across it?
They sat on the beach for an hour or so. It was utterly
deserted. Wilson had collected together a few pieces of wood from
the jungle to make a fire before swimming out to sea to catch
several fish between his teeth.
We might have to build a raft, Wilson turned the fish over
the heat and regarded the trees of the jungle thoughtfully. But that
will take days to get across the sea. I suppose we could fashion
sails if we weave leaves together.
Come on! Benjamin shook Jesus. You re the Son of God!
You must be able to do something!
Well I can! grinned Jesus. I can walk on water, but that
doesn t help you at all does it?
The following week was spent with Jesus carrying each of
them, one by one, on his back over the sea.
Faster! the Chicken cried as he stepped on the waves. You
could be quicker! You re Jesus Christ aren t you?
Fuck being Jesus Christ! I m knackered! Do you know how
far I ve walked in the last few days?
I m merely a Chicken and I ve been half way round the
world!
I m going as fast as I can!
Well make sure you do! People having been eating my lot
on your bloody birthday for God knows how long! So you owe us
one!
If it wasn t for my Dad you wouldn t exist anyway!
Bollocks! You not heard of Darwin? Your Dad is just some
clever dick who took the credit for it all!
Wilson was the only one who didn t get carried over as he
preferred swimming there backstroke.
I could do with the exercise! he said as he waded into the
sea in his swimming trunks and skull cap. Overhead the clouds
were a foreboding grey colour.
Wilson arrived in North Korea first and set up a base camp
on the beach so that when the others arrived they would have
sleeping quarters and food to eat. Two days after he got there
Jesus arrived with the Chicken. He came first because it was
deemed unwise to leave him alone with Julius who had taken to
fashioning knives and skewers out of bamboo wood. Wilson had
already built a five bed roomed wooden hut on the sand using the
trees from the jungle inland. Jesus collapsed for a night s sleep
prior to heading back for Master Benjamin.
Four days later when they arrived a cottage sat on the beach,
complete with thatched roof and a flint cobbled chimney which had
smoke oozing from it as Wilson cooked fish over the fire. The
Chicken was smoking a cigar and reading the Financial Times in
the cosy living room.
Damn it! The new European agricultural policy will send the
price of beef and lamb shooting up! Bastards!
Benjamin and Jesus ate some Shepherds pie, drank a few
bottles of wine and slept in fresh bed sheets for the first time in
quite a while as Wilson and the Chicken sat downstairs drinking
Port and listening to the music on the CD player.
I must say that this is all very exciting, announced the
Chicken stubbing out his cigar in an ashtray made out of seashells.
I am really glad I escaped that farm I was in.
How come you did that? enquired Wilson stoking the
embers in the fireplace.
I read a paper claiming that bird flu was on it s way to
Western Europe. The sheer thought of it made me want to escape!
I d had a nice life on the farm before that. Because I was the most
intelligent chicken there the others all asked me to write letters to
their relatives. When I couldn t produce eggs the others covered for
me in return. They also smuggled in liquorice allsorts and the
works of Proust for me so that I could sit up in the loft alone
every afternoon in a state of bliss. Soon I got bored of conversing
with them in clucks and started talking to the farmer who took me
into his house to teach his son, a stupid imbecilic oaf of a boy,
English. I also helped him with his French grammar and
Trigonometry. It wasn t long before I was running that farm. I
saved an entire generation of Chickens from all kinds of horrors.
Firstly I did some market analysis and persuaded the farmer that
the French public preferred beef and pork. He immediately set
about slaughtering the pigs and cows while the chickens remained
safe. I fiddled the figures so that it appeared that egg sales far
outstripped chicken sales and that to kill them for meat was a false [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
unimpressed sounding Chicken.
That s me!
I can t say I m not disappointed. To think that my brothers
and cousins were killed to provide people with meals at Easter and
Christmas!
The five of them slept soundly that night around the orange
embers of the camp fire. Julius farting, Jesus snoring and
ejaculating, Benjamin dreaming of Jane, the Chicken of a corn fed
only farm without oestrogen injections or batteries and Wilson of
women in French maid outfits.
They woke the next morning to the sound of Julius praying
on his knees.
Oh fuck all that bollocks! snarled Jesus rolling over. Shut
up will you? Some of us are trying to sleep!
An hour later Wilson had them up all marching into the
jungle. He weaved a gown out of leaves for Jesus to wear so that
he wouldn t be naked.
But I like the air rushing either side of my scrotum! he
said.
It s most off putting seeing a man s penis all day long,
Wilson told him. Your father certainly lacked aesthetic skill and
imagination when it came to that!
Yes, it looks like a dead turkey hanging upside down in a
slaughterhouse, agreed the Chicken.
Don t you ever shut up? snapped Julius. Wilson? Tell him
to keep quiet! That Chicken only listens to you!
I really think we should give you a name! enthused Wilson
stroking the little chap affectionately on the head. To refer to you
as the Chicken must bore you. Do you have a name by any
chance?
No I don t, now you come to mention it!
I ve got a few names we can call him, started Julius.
How about Pontius? suggested Jesus.
Or Reginald? added Benjamin.
Kentucky Fried? Julius said. He d look better like that and
we wouldn t hear a peep!
We ll try coming up with a name for you, Wilson said
before stopping as they reached a clearing. Look at that! He
pointed ahead of them so that they all looked.
We must be somewhere on the Chinese coast! cried
Benjamin as they jogged down towards the sea. But how are we
going to get across it?
They sat on the beach for an hour or so. It was utterly
deserted. Wilson had collected together a few pieces of wood from
the jungle to make a fire before swimming out to sea to catch
several fish between his teeth.
We might have to build a raft, Wilson turned the fish over
the heat and regarded the trees of the jungle thoughtfully. But that
will take days to get across the sea. I suppose we could fashion
sails if we weave leaves together.
Come on! Benjamin shook Jesus. You re the Son of God!
You must be able to do something!
Well I can! grinned Jesus. I can walk on water, but that
doesn t help you at all does it?
The following week was spent with Jesus carrying each of
them, one by one, on his back over the sea.
Faster! the Chicken cried as he stepped on the waves. You
could be quicker! You re Jesus Christ aren t you?
Fuck being Jesus Christ! I m knackered! Do you know how
far I ve walked in the last few days?
I m merely a Chicken and I ve been half way round the
world!
I m going as fast as I can!
Well make sure you do! People having been eating my lot
on your bloody birthday for God knows how long! So you owe us
one!
If it wasn t for my Dad you wouldn t exist anyway!
Bollocks! You not heard of Darwin? Your Dad is just some
clever dick who took the credit for it all!
Wilson was the only one who didn t get carried over as he
preferred swimming there backstroke.
I could do with the exercise! he said as he waded into the
sea in his swimming trunks and skull cap. Overhead the clouds
were a foreboding grey colour.
Wilson arrived in North Korea first and set up a base camp
on the beach so that when the others arrived they would have
sleeping quarters and food to eat. Two days after he got there
Jesus arrived with the Chicken. He came first because it was
deemed unwise to leave him alone with Julius who had taken to
fashioning knives and skewers out of bamboo wood. Wilson had
already built a five bed roomed wooden hut on the sand using the
trees from the jungle inland. Jesus collapsed for a night s sleep
prior to heading back for Master Benjamin.
Four days later when they arrived a cottage sat on the beach,
complete with thatched roof and a flint cobbled chimney which had
smoke oozing from it as Wilson cooked fish over the fire. The
Chicken was smoking a cigar and reading the Financial Times in
the cosy living room.
Damn it! The new European agricultural policy will send the
price of beef and lamb shooting up! Bastards!
Benjamin and Jesus ate some Shepherds pie, drank a few
bottles of wine and slept in fresh bed sheets for the first time in
quite a while as Wilson and the Chicken sat downstairs drinking
Port and listening to the music on the CD player.
I must say that this is all very exciting, announced the
Chicken stubbing out his cigar in an ashtray made out of seashells.
I am really glad I escaped that farm I was in.
How come you did that? enquired Wilson stoking the
embers in the fireplace.
I read a paper claiming that bird flu was on it s way to
Western Europe. The sheer thought of it made me want to escape!
I d had a nice life on the farm before that. Because I was the most
intelligent chicken there the others all asked me to write letters to
their relatives. When I couldn t produce eggs the others covered for
me in return. They also smuggled in liquorice allsorts and the
works of Proust for me so that I could sit up in the loft alone
every afternoon in a state of bliss. Soon I got bored of conversing
with them in clucks and started talking to the farmer who took me
into his house to teach his son, a stupid imbecilic oaf of a boy,
English. I also helped him with his French grammar and
Trigonometry. It wasn t long before I was running that farm. I
saved an entire generation of Chickens from all kinds of horrors.
Firstly I did some market analysis and persuaded the farmer that
the French public preferred beef and pork. He immediately set
about slaughtering the pigs and cows while the chickens remained
safe. I fiddled the figures so that it appeared that egg sales far
outstripped chicken sales and that to kill them for meat was a false [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]