Zinnia Hope, author of multi-genres and erotic romances; also writing as J. Emberglass

A Freya's Bower Author. Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting Do you dare read my novels? Are your panties wet yet? If not, no worries because they soon will be.

Monday, July 17

The renegade chicken is back. He rallied the hens and the younger cocks. For the past couple of days, I've heard banging and the creaking of wood and ropes under strain. Friday night, I heard them talking in chickenese. Yep, I can translate chickenese.

"Cl'ere clinished! Clee clill clegret clicking us as clootballs!"

I sat up in bed. Light bounced across the drawn shades. Flinging back the covers, I sprang out of bed and released the blind. Approximately fifty chickens milled about in the backyard. There, in the center of the lawn where my flowerbed full of sweet william, gladiolas, and cosmos USED to be, sat a miniature catapult.

What the hell???

"I watched the hens turn their feathered butts to the catapult's ammo bucket. All the young cocks lined up and did the same action too before waddling to the end of the line to wait behind the hens again.

I squinted, but the light from their mini torches caused too many leaping shadows and distorted my view.

"Cleady!" squawked the renegade rooster. "Claim! Clire!"

The catapult released with a hollow thonk and something white splattered the side of the house. White and gray clumps slid down the window glass.

Fury ripped through me. That lousy Sunday-Roast-To-Be!

Racing downstairs in my tee shirt and panties, I reached the backdoor and threw it open. The chickens clucked their startlement and most of them ran for the coup. I stared at the renegade cock; he stared back.

"Clun, cloo, clree!" he squawked louder. "Clire!"

I ducked and chicken shit splattered my lovely glass patio door.

"You feathery peckerheads!" I screeched. "Go ahead, have your fun! I'm done with this...this chicken shit!"

I stomped back inside thinking about which chicken soup recipe I liked best and even mulled over using that difficult, but scrumptious dumpling recipe that my grandma had given to me when I had setup my own household.

The following day, I rounded up the chickens and ushered them into a fenced and wired POW camp out by the barn. The renegade chicken is under poultry arrest. The USDA is investigating him. The hens and young cocks told me that they're sorry and that the Hitler Rooster won't be released for a couple of years.

Hmm...wonder if I got my point across?


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