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“The Chicken Story”
There is a
knock at the
door, but
Marika is
in the middle of
pulling out
bread so
she yells to
Adolpho who
shuffles out
from the
bedroom and
opens it—
“Mom!”
“Adolpho”
“We weren’t
expecting you
til this evening—
come in, come
in” “Oh,
Tito
gave me a
ride”
“Wonderful—
Hi, Tito”
“Hello,
Adolpho”
Marika
comes out
and gives
her mother
a hug and
then Tito
“Watch out,”
Tito warns
“I’m smelling
of chickens”
“We weren’t-“
“-Well, we
would’ve been
here at noon”
Then she casts
a truly
cruel glance
toward Tito,
who looks
down “Coffee?”
“Yes, yes”
“Have you
eaten?”
“We’re
fine”
The
anger from
mother toward
Tito is palpable
and makes
both Marika
and Adolpho
uncomfortable—Adolpho
finally breaks
the tension “Let’s
go on out to
the patio and
drink a beer,
eh, Tito?”
“Yes”
They go out
and Marika
finishes placing
the long loaves
on the rests
“What is it?”
“Just horrible—
can’t even
talk about it”—
Outside, sitting
in the sun
the two men
clink bottles,
say “Cheers”
then swallow—
Birds, numerous
birds are
sitting or
dancing in the
trees, hopping
on the freshly
mown lawn
and darting
in and out
among bushes
“Birds” Tito
says—Adolpho
opens him
another beer
“I know what
it’s like—would
rather die
than spend
eight hours
in a car
with her”
“Oh, it’s not
Margarita, it’s
chickens—I
smell of chickens—
sheesh, boy,”
he sniffs
his sleeves
“Do I smell
of chickens!”
“What happened?”
“Well,” and he
empties half
his second beer
screws up
his face as if
he’s about
to burp,
but it passes—
“Chickens, I
hate them”
“Yes?”
“Pelle,
my friend,
always been
wild with
chickens, always
had chickens
running around,
you know?—He
comes up with
this big idea—
I mean he
always made
a little extra
off his chickens—
sold a couple
a week, to
people in the
village, but
he decides
he’ll be a
chicken—what
is it?
Farmer
or rancher?
Anyway, so, he
hatches more
and more
chickens—until
there’s too
much to sell,
right?—I mean
couldn’t even
donate them
to the church
any more—Father
said ‘No thanks’—
and everyone
in the village
is eating
chicken two,
three, four times
a week”
He
drinks “Too
much—so I’m
over to his
house one day
and he shows me
he’s got all
these chickens
too much chickens—
and he’s frantic—
can’t even give
‘em away”
Drinks
again—Adolpho
passes him another—
“So I say
‘Why not place
an ad in
one of the
bigger newspapers?—’
and so I
write out an
ad for him—
he can’t write—
and we send
it off… well,
I mean, I may
have left
the ‘s’ off
chickens, yes, and
my handwriting
is a little
sloppy maybe—
but we started
getting these
phone calls—we,
‘cuz Pelle
don’t got a
phone—and
after the first
few calls
I run down
to Ray’s and,
well, he’s
the only
one I know
who gets
that certain paper,
right?—So
I read the
ad—and instead
of ‘fat’—I’d
written ’50
fat chickens’
or ‘chicken’
and the ad
said ’50 kg
chicken, 12-
per’—I mean
he was doing
it cheap,
right?
So
when I got
home there was
Pelle the
businessman, answering
the phone—So
we sit around
all day answering
the phone together
drinking beer—
always the
same thing—
nobody wants
live chickens—
at least
twenty phone calls—
amazing—Then,
around two
yesterday, this
market owner
from a little
town north
of here—all
he asks is
‘Are they
fresh?’
‘Yes,’
Pelle says
‘Perfectly fresh’
and so a
deal is made,
right?”
He
drinks, drinks
again “So we
spend the whole
rest of
the day
driving around
picking up
cages from
people, and
shoo the
chickens in and
load them
on the truck
and strap
it all down—
Didn’t finish
til four
in the morning!”
“Aye!”
“Yeah!—
And so I’m
heading out
a few hours
later—and
there’s Margarita
at the
bus stop, so
I offer her
a lift”
“The bus is
no good”
“No—
so slow,
and the trains
don’t even stop
anymore—full
of soldiers
shuttling back
and forth,
you know?—
I tell her
I have to
drop off these
chickens, then
I’m going
to my brother’s
anyway so
happy to give
her a lift”
“We appreciate
you helping
her out”
“Oh, no appreciation,
please—it’s,
well, I drive
her or run
errands for
her, and, well,
you know
Sue?”
“Your
wife?—I’ve
met her”
“Well,
God love
her, but she
can’t cook,
and so I
get meals
from Margarita
on the sly—
Believe me,
it’s a fair
trade—Anyway”
And he drinks
“Anyway, so
we drive
along—and
the chickens
are not
happy chickens—
I have to
stop every
once in a
while and
try to
calm them down—
But we finally
make it
and I pull
up outside
this market
and go in
and the man
comes out
and, is, amazed—
‘They’re live!’
He shouts
at me—Well,
I don’t know,
bad trip and
all, guess I
hadn’t thought
it all out—
I mean I
should’ve known
he’d expected
slaughtered chickens
like all
the others—
could have
prepared myself—
I just go
‘Perfectly fresh’—
made him mad
‘Go away!’ he
shouts—’I don’t
want them!—I
run a market
here, for God’s
sake!’
I say ‘You
made a deal—
what did
you expect
at such
a price?—
can’t take
them back—
barely survived
the trip
down here!’
I was heated
‘Take them
to the
dump!—Release
them in the
park, in
the hills!’
‘I’ll gladly
release them
in the hills
once you’ve
paid for them—
You made
a deal!—
Here are
your chickens’
And so I start
unstrapping the
cages, right?
‘Wait!
Wait!
Stop!—Just
hold on!’
And he runs
into his
market, right?”
He drinks
“So we sit
there for
maybe half an hour
or so—
Finally he
comes out
‘O.k.,’ he says,
‘You drive to
such and
such place’—
So we drive
out to this
strange house—
falling apart
creepy looking
way down
this bumpy dirt
road, which
the chickens
certainly didn’t
appreciate—and
there’s this
big funny
man there
big red face
with these
three young
daughters—He’s
standing there
waiting for
us with this
axe in his
hand, right?—
Margarita was
still in good
humor at
that point
and puts
on this
mock-horror face—
like we’re
going to
get murdered,
right?
I mean
here we
are out in
the middle
of nowhere
and this grim dirty
scary looking
man with
his axe
and scraggledy daughters
gathered around”
Adolpho laughs—
“Well, so, I
start unloading
the cages
and the
man tooks
out the
first chicken
and just
whacked its
head off—
then gathered
his girls
around him
while he
showed them
how to
pluck ‘em—
blood and
feathers flying—
little girls
they were
at first gagging
and fussing,
but strange—
got into
the rhythm of
doing it—
almost gleefully—
weird expressions—
They need a
television bad
them kids—
but they
worked real
fast—Oh, I
mean, kinda
sloppy—certainly
didn’t look
like chickens
one buys in the
market—feet
still on and
necks badly
sticking up—Well,
so we get
thru all 50
chickens in
an hour or so—
He dumps
them in
some crates—
and I’ve
retied the
cages, then
load the bloody
crates and
drive back to
this market—
The man is
not too pleased
with the
mess, but
pays up—”
He drinks
“So here
we are—
I smell
like chickens,
huh?—I
hate chickens”
“But why
is Margarita
so upset?”
“Ah, it was
a pretty gruesome
event—She
hasn’t said
a word to
me since”
Adolpho laughs
“Could’ve been
worse—could’ve
been cows”
“Yeah” Tito
says, smiling, getting
up “I’m off
to my brother’s”
“You coming
tomorrow?
We’re
throwing a party”
“Oh, yes,
Margarita invited
me—I’ll
borrow a shirt
from my brother”
“It’s casual”
“O.k.—just
don’t want
to smell like
chickens”
“O.k.—
around 2“
“Yeah, thanks“—
Adolpho walks
into the
kitchen “Where’s
your mom?”
“She’s lying
down—Did
he tell you
the story?”
Adolpho smiles
“Don’t you
dare laugh!”
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