Urban Chicken Chapter 1: The Spoils Of Life

Lawrence awoke to foul stench.  The foulest he could remember in quite a long while.  This is remarkable, since he lived on a farm.   Smells like this happen every day.  However, today was extra fragrant.

Lawrence felt a beak in his chest.  It wasn’t his.  Opening his eyes, Lawrence saw two black holes surrounded by something pink.

“You wide awake and ready for another day, Foos?”  Said Grace, the incredibly obnoxious cow.

“Oh yeah!”  Willie the Turkey exclaimed.  “Sorry, Lawrence, I must have fallen out of my bed again.”

“If that happens again, I will peck you mercilessly.”  Lawrence informed.

“Oh glory!”  Grace screamed, “It’s time to see another wonderful sunrise!”

“You woke me up before sunrise!  Again!  Pull it together, Grace.”  Lawrence moaned.

“Cheer up, fella.”  Willie chimed in, “Let’s see this thing Grace is on about.”

Thre trio exited the barn together, entering into a vast field covered with a red sky that would soon turn blue, with variable clouds of course.

“You woke me up because the sky was a slightly different colour thn it normaly is?”  Lawrence inquired loudly.  “For crying out loud!  I could have slept in a few more hours!”

“Come on, Larry.  It’s not so bad.”   Willie said.

“Don’t call me Larry!”  Lawrence barked.

Willie clammed up.

They watched the sun make its way up into the sky over acres of grazing land on rolling hills which backed up onto a shimmering lake, where in addition to their many livestock, Nigel and Tiffany Newton, husband and wife farming team, could also catch many fish and add them to their spoils of life.  When the land gives you so much on its own, why would you need anything else?

The group trundled over to the farm house to gaze  through the large bay window.  The true image of success.  Nigel and Tiffany were sitting down to breakfast.  To the trio it looked like an endless spread of any food imaginable.

“Listen!  Oh glory!  Every time they sit down to a meal, they mention my name!  They must like me the most!”  Grace exclaimed.

“Yep, til they grind you up for meat.”  Willie quipped.

“You’re one to talk.  You’re only safe until some future Thanksgiving.  Then…”  Lawrence made a cutting motion across his throat.

“We are all in the same boat, foo.  Chicken is tasty too!”  Grace reminded.

Nigel and Tiffany finished their morning meal.  This was followed by the bass thump, thump, thump, of Tiffany’s breast pump.  She needed to use it so that their newborn son, Neville would be able to eat his own breakfast.

The three made stomping noises along with the beat of the pump, just for fun.  No harm was ever intended.

“I wish Nigel would be a dear and milk me soon!”  Grace screamed.  The pressure was becoming too much.

Lawrence and Willie sympathized.  Unfortunately, they only had wings, which weren’t very good for flying, let alone milking Grace’s teats.

Lawrence grunted a warning.  Approaching footsteps were heard.

The three stood at attention and made their way to the feeding troughs.

Nigel Newton appeared from around the corner.   This man loved The Beatles, and had many playlists which he could enjoy for hours on end.   True to the song Nigel had decided to share with the animals, he was indeed a real Nowhere Man.  As far as Lawrence, Grace, and Willie could tell, Nigel had no aspirations outside of hanging out in the back yard pretending to care for them.

“Corn again?”  Willie squealed.

“Every day.” Lawrence lamented.  The two birds dutifully ate their corn along side their unlikely cow friend.

“Eating eggs would be like cannibalism for you.”  Grace quipped.

Lawrence threw up in his mouth a little bit.  She had a point.  However, if he thought that was all the humiliation he was up for that day, Lawrence was sadly mistaken.

As fate would have it, Lawrence heard the unmistakable war cry of Butch the Rooster, undoubtedly bounding over hill and dale of the property only to tell Lawrence of his conquests the night before.

“Hey Lawrence!”  Butch shrieked.  “I had sex ten times last night!  What about you?”  Butch laughed.  Lawrence quietly muttered to his friends.  “Butch’s name needs a different vowel in it.”  The others agreed.   Grace and Willie stood closer one on each side of Lawrence so he would not feel alone as he endured Butch’s emasculating taunting.  Soon, it was over, and as always, Lawrence was left with lots to think about.  Grace and Willie retired to the barn to save themselves from the heat of the day.  Grace was an evening grazer anyway.  This left Lawrence alone with his thoughts.

Lawrence paced back and forth throughout the property.

Why was Butch so obsessed with sex?  He talks about it like it’s the only thing worth doing with your life.  Sure, he’s the rooster of the group, so all of the hens are going to line up for him whenever they feel like it, which, if Butch is to be believed, is a frequent occurrence.

Lawrence briefly stopped for a brief drink from the lake, before resuming his pacing and thinking.

He could have sex too, if given the chance, but the hens only go for the rooster.  The honest truth of chicken hierarchy.   Lawrence wasn’t set up to be that kind of chicken.  He would eventually end up on someone’s plate.  The same fate was technically true of Butch. Lawrence stewed on that thought.  It was enjoyable, until he thought about himself as chicken stew.  At that moment, he stopped thinking of such things.  Even though the same fate awaited both chickens,  it seemed to Lawrence that Butch’s life was filled with exponentially more…social interaction.  This is not to say that Lawrence was some sort of INCEL.  The hens didn’t owe him anything ever.  Deep down, Lawrence didn’t give a rat’s petunia if he had sex or not.  It was just so annoying that Butch kept trying to make him feel like he was not doing anything with his life by abstaining in this way.

As the sun began to set, Lawrence could see the lights of the city in the distance.  The city was the place where Nigel and Tiffany sold what their farm gave them in order to have more prosperity for themselves.  Lawrence wondered what it was like over there in the city.  Surely, it would be more interesting than wandering around out here waiting to die.  Lawrence promised himself that he would try his best to visit the city one day.  He would do something interesting with his life before it was over.  For now, he would return to his two annoying, yet faithful, friends for another night of talking while they stared at the ceiling of that old barn.  If nothing else, Lawrence had them, and they had him.

If  Lawrence was to die, he wanted it to be more interesting than a knife to the neck for food’s sake.  He quickly decided to  make sure that would not happen.  At least, not in that kind of way.

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