With hindsight being 20/20, I should’ve known better. You see, gentle reader, that, after consuming their prognosticating snack, a trail that can only be described as a molten brown crayon running amok on the ground made bare the steps of our dear hens. Safe to say, the chickens’ ethically sourced, pelleted feed must’ve inflicted some intestinal distress, which led to a poor augury.
Heeding the advice of Aristotle in his Rhetoric that the point of a doctor is not so much to heal, but rather, to keep his patient as far from illness and poor disposition as possible, I indulged Wolfie and San Julius in a little spa treatment at their own, personalized, Rancho Relaxo.
I looked at my beloveds and noticed they were a little weak, a little tight. This, no doubt, stemmed from their explosive bowels. I decided a nice, warm bath would help matters. Without him taking note, I pilfered the basin which Turd uses as a foot bath, always enhanced with epsom salts. (I’ll spare you the details of his gnarly-ass feet. But, suffice it to say, he needs a professional contractor to grind down his massive (and slightly infected) toenails. It’s nasty.) The hens leapt in and seemed to enjoy their soak.
Thusly refreshed, San Julius gazed the gaze of a chicken into my eyes as if to ask whom our boys were next playing. I told her we have the opportunity to exact revenge against Nashville, a team we succumbed to a few scant days ago.
Wolfie tilted her head a quick 45 degrees when “Nasville” escaped my lips. She clearly was wanting to know about the town.
“It’s a good town. A good music town. Good food, too.” is what I replied to her. She seemed interested in the food part. So, I continued. “One of their most famous dishes is their hot chicken.”
At the sound of this phrase, well, gentle reader, have you ever seen depictions of Vikings going berserk?
Take the above image and increase the poultry quotient by 10,000%. They jumped out of their bath and did their thing. It was scary and awesome at the same time.
After a solid 15 minutes of intense movements, both locked eyes with me. They took two deliberate leaps to the right and stopped.
Yes, my dears, I understand.
El FC 2-0 Nashville How Dare You Handle Hens in Such a Horrendous Way