We lock the evil chickens in Hell’s Henhouse at night to keep predators from finding them finger lickin’ good. Every morning, the girls let them out so they have the run of a large pen all day. It’s like a dog run but for chickens. A chicken run. (BAhahahaha! I kill me!)
We’ve had 9 chickens for about 2 months now, and I can finally enter their pen without hyperventilating. So this morning, when our children slept in, silly me thought Hey…I’ll let the chickens out so the kids can relax this morning.
I thought I could do it. Really, I did.
Half asleep, coffee cup in hand, I traipsed outside in my jammies to the chicken pen. All I had to do was open their door, secure the run gate and go back into the house. Easy peasy nice-n-squeezie. Or not.
The evil little bastards knew I was coming.
I know they did, because they did not saunter out at a leisurely pace like they do every morning for the kids. Oh no, I opened up that door and those beasts all flew at me at once–squawking and flapping and gnashing their teeth! (Do chickens have teeth? They must…I swear these things had fangs.) I had a flashback to childhood, where a rat in the henhouse + a screaming Kelly led to the same performance–except this time I was trapped inside the pen.
As they flew at me I shrieked and backed up to the fence, my favorite coffee cup sailing through the air. Flying at me like feathered vampires apparently wasn’t enough, because then they surrounded me! Pinned up against the fence, trapped by Satan’s evil horde all hopping up and down and ferociously flapping their wings, I detected an odd sound. At first I thought it was chickens chanting, “Kill the old bat! Kill the old bat!” but then I realized the guttural sound gaining momentum was coming from me. Without even realizing it, I was pleading, “Don’t do that! Don’t do that! Oh please don’t do that!”
–And then just like that, they lost interest and wandered away.
I stood there almost in tears over my own stupidity. Picked up my coffee cup and bruised ego and hightailed it out of the pen wondering if the neighbors were laughing hysterically behind their blinds, of if the kids were watching through the window. I know I was a ridiculous sight.
Funny yes, and Funny no.
I know it’s stupid. I see the humor now, but early this morning I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. No, really–take whatever irrational fear you might possess and multiply it by 9.
See what I mean?
(sigh) The human psyche is a weird, weird thing.
Chapter VII: Day 146 of Chicken Hell
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