Chicken Update

Some people asked me what ever happened to Shawna the bad girl chicken.  Well, it's like this.  I was awfully sick and tired of her putting her beak into everyone's business and eating up the eggs.  She also led more than her share of girlies astray, so yep, girlfriend had to go.  The problem is, I live with a bunch of wimps.

I finally got the nerve up to do it.  I researched how to butcher her.  Let me tell you something about butchering a chicken:  you don't want to do it.  It's a messy, messy process, and that's not even talking about the defeathering, which is a nightmare of its own.  I'm pretty sure, after researching it, that I never lived in a third world country in a former life.  So yeah, I was killing her for the sake of knocking her off, cause she was, quite frankly, pissing me off.

So I researched ways to do it.  Broomstick method seemed the easiest way, but then again, I have a helluva stun gun, and why not put it to good use?  I was concerned, however, that the million volts (I'm not joking -- I asked for one that was big enough to put a crazy person on their ass) might just be too much.  I mean, I might find myself wracked with guilt if she exploded.  And I sure as heck didn't want to end up power spraying her off the house, or worse yet, me.  But I slept on it and decided to do it anyway.

But how does one use a stun gun on a chicken without hanging onto them?  Cause yeah, holding onto anything you are stunning with a million volts would not be advised.  I ended up in the garage, found some weedwhacker string, and made myself a chicken noose.  Not for her neck, mind you, but to hang her from.  Because hey, did you know that if you hang a chicken upside down, they chill out?  I had it all figured out.  So then I snuck into my bedroom where Jim was sleeping.  He's a Marine, remember, so although he was snoring when I went in, he popped wide awake within literally two seconds, and said "what are you doing?" in a rather firm voice.  "Nothing, boo.  Go to sleep."  "No.  What are you doing?"  "I'm gonna kill Shawna."  "What?  How're you gonna do that?"   "I'm getting my stun gun."  

The voice got noticeably louder as he said "don't you kill that chicken while I'm here."

It was at that point that I realized that you can be trained to kill someone in 72 different ways, but still be a softie when it comes to a troublesome chicken.  And so it is that Shawna The Problem Chicken was donated, still kicking to the Poultry Project.  And dontcha know, I took two more chickens there two weeks later, and darned if that stupid bird didn't run right up to me from amongst a crowd of about thirty chickens.  That darned bird never could mind her own business. But oh well, she's someone else's problem now.

And that's the way it is.