We had wondered if it could have been ground hog that had done the deed. Ed made a spear, and almost killed one. I put a rib from Wilson's, the most revered food item/delicacy in all of the North Side. I checked the trap the next day...
I called animal control. A few hours later, it was gone. Kinda cute. Faith even came by to see it. Even squirming visibly vexed by its captivity, it played interestedly with a grass stalk Faith stuck in the cage. This passivity seemed to represent a lack of morals, as if honor would require being pissed or least unresponsive toward your captors. When i caught it I could not believe how small it was. It weighed as much as a pair of boots. The beast I had been describing to friends and coworkers must have inflated in my memory as my mind struggled to provide logic to the story of the chickens. This little bitch-face could not have downed 7 chickens in one night. Could it have?
The psychologist doing that study on mood disorders ( two post ago) jutted in after a pause indicating that the story had appropriately ended due to my lack of words. "A clear sign of hypomania" he said like a referee saying "strike three" or "home run". Fuck that guy. I'm never taking pills because of some chickens. Maybe a tums. Maybe something for salmonella poisoning. ciprofloxacin .
TO BE CONTINUED. well it' kinda done.
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