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            I was sitting at my computer working on my hot, melt your panties sex scene and suddenly I hear. Cheep. Cheep. Cheep. What the…?”

 

            I looked down and there sat Sam, my demon dog, with a mouth full of feathers. So, silly me I asked him, “What’s in your mouth?” Sam barked, “Nuthin.”

 

            Right. Does he think I’m stupid? The poor bird cheeped desperately. In my best mean mother voice I command, “Spit!” Sam does and the chicken, wings flapping madly and squawking pathetically took off like the Devil himself was after it.

 

            Sam (the Devil in disguise) thinks this is great fun and chased the poor chicken all over the house. Right into my kinda messy kitchen (hey, I’m working here). Where I had left out a bowl of hot sauce on the counter and you guessed it – SPLAT! That stupid bird slammed into the sauce, wings still flapping like crazy, splattering the stuff all over the walls, ceiling, floor and me. Arrgh!

 

            Okay, I lost it and started screaming blue bloody murder at the crazy chicken and my hyperactive pooch. Off they went, spreading mayhem and sauce all over the living room. Mad as hell, I grabbed my broom and tried to chase the damned chicken out the back door. “You’re dinner! Do ya hear me?”

 

            Someone pounded on my front door. “Go away,” I shouted. They shouted back, “Police! Open up.”

 

            Crap! I opened the door and smiled all friendly like at the hot cop on my front porch. “Can I help you officer?” His hand on his gun, the officer eyed my sauce-covered body, “Are you injured, ma’am?”

 

            A slightly hysterical laugh escaped me. “No, sir. It’s hot sauce.” At his incredulous look, I invited him in. Sam ran by in hot pursuit of the chicken, splattering the unsuspecting officer’s immaculate uniform. “Sorry,” I whacked madly at the stupid chicken. “Bad chicken!”

 

The nice officer snagged the broom out of my hand and with one easy swing, batted the “bad chicken” right out the back door. Without another word, he gave me back my broom, turned and walked out. I yelled after him, “You like fried chicken?”

 

He got in his car and drove off. Guess not.      

     

 

   

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Comment by Gail Koger on March 4, 2011 at 12:08pm
Glad you enjoyed it. Unfortunately, it's kinda true.
Comment by Stephen L. Brayton on March 4, 2011 at 9:02am
Funny. Thanks.

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