Gentle reader, I need to thank Charles Peacock, Esq. for his work last week. If you are not aware, he’s a real one. Now, I won’t stoop to that level to explain what he is real at, but he is.
This team of ours, our beloved FC, continue to confound those of us here at the compound by putting in an exception performance. They flummox both people and hens, all confused by what to expect.
It’s good to see that Phil was also wrong.
To be honest, I blame his mistakes on his false claim of owning and tending to prognosticating chickens. Phil, trust me when I say this is a terrifying gift I have. There’s no place for mockery here.
Now, to these bhoys
And them
And this video
“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
I am choosing to go this route. Our bhoys got their groove back. They know how to score. Correction: Most know how to score
It was at this time that my hens approached. I looked at them with the love of a father. I reached into my pockets and grabbed a handful of some ethically sourced, GMO free, organic, pelleted feed. Having scattered the feed on the ground, I observed my hens. (You see, gentle reader, this is the part that Phil West doesn’t do.)
They both eagerly ate thrice to the right and then once, lethargically, to the left.
Yes, my dears, I understand.
El FC 3-1 Chuds
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.
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