Gentle reader, our team is not doing well. We are sliding into oblivion. I think that was the reason my beloved hens traveled across the pond for a short visit to Old Blighty, Albion, the Land of the Rose: England. If you remember, they sent us a telegram whilst visiting Waterley Bottom.
When they arrived home two days ago, I celebrated with the joy that only true tifosi can understand. I brought them into my sitting room. This is a space in the compound that I’ve been working on making mine for some time.
For one, I brought in a classic Eames chair that I found abandoned in Tarrytown.
Then, I brought in many classic tomes.
Settled into this cozy space, my hens and I began to chat. I only wanted to know about the upcoming match vs. D.C. United. The hens, however, only wanted to talk of their trip. I obliged.
They began with a map, showing where home base was. They settled on a somewhat charming village called North Nibley.
Interesting choice, I thought. They then told me they were especially keen to visit the Tyndale Monument.
I didn’t peg my hens to be such history nerds, but they told me how it celebrates the first English translation of the Bible following the Reformation of Henry VIII. What made this especially queer is that the Catholic noble family, the Berkeleys, erected it. Anything to maintain their fortunes and prestige, they figured.
Thinking they’d be ready to talk El FC, I brought up the upcoming match again.
Of course, they turned my attention to Woodhenge, near Amesbury in the neighboring county of Wiltshire.
Defeated, I asked what this wannabe, low quality ropes course was. I got an angry hen stare in return. Turns out, its like Stonehenge, but much older and originally made of wood.
Tiring of this English history lesson, I pushed one last time what they though was in store for the upcoming match.
I scattered their ethically sourced, pelleted feed from my pocket and onto the floor. San Julius looked up at me, but our chakras did not align. Rather, she stared into the universe, into oblivion.
Then, she ate once to the left and stood still. Absolutely still.
No bueno.
El FC 0-1 DC
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.