Possibly one of the most interesting things about the many human languages is that one word can have multiple meanings. It can often used to form puns, to get a cheap laugh out of, "Was this what you meant?". Sometimes the misuse of the word can become a dangerous mix that can cause only calamity to ensue.
Returning home from the feed store, my farm looked about as cheerful as it could. The sun was hanging high in the sky, flooding the world with its sweltering heat. I could see the the bugs flying around and the birds gliding and collecting the blooming seeds from the ground.
I got out of my truck and headed inside to see my wife once again. Her name was Jenny. I was the luckiest guy in the world to have married such a gorgeous woman with an attitude and outlook on life incredibly similar to my own. She was short with brown hair, golden brown eyes to match. I walked through the door and was greeted by her warm and welcoming smile.
"Did you get the 'Chicken Scratch' chicken feed like I asked?" she asked sitting back down on the couch and opening her magazine.
I nodded. "I wasn't sure which kind to get so I got both."
"They should work, I hope," she replied, flipping another page. "Can you go out there and feed before it gets dark?"
I agreed and headed out the door. I went to my truck and pulled out of the pack, a bag of chicken food. As I looked over the bag, I felt a sharp pain grazing my leg. I looked down but saw nothing. I ignored it and looked back to the bag, overlooking the ingredients. I then felt another scratching in the same spot, only this time it was followed by the 'Caw-ing' of a chicken.
I looked down to find that, sure enough, there was a chicken that kept scratching my leg. I lifted my leg and kicked it away. After it was gone, I reached down and wiped the blood from the cut away. I made my way over to the chicken coop and poured a little bit of the seeds into a bowl for them.
After stepping away and heading back inside, I felt another scratching from my leg. I started to croak like a chicken and could feel myself shrinking. I quickly charged inside. I was thankful my wife had seen me as I walked in, just before I fully transformed into a chicken. I tried calling to her, but the only noise escaping my beak was that of a chicken.
She looked at me, completely confused and panicked. She looked down at my leg and noticed there being a deep scratch. Speaking aloud, she said, "Chicken Scratch."
Almost the moment the words escaped her lips, I could feel myself growing taller and the feathers shedding from my skin. I felt the beak melt away and turn into my normal, pink lips. I looked over to her with joy and thankfulness in my eyes. I ran to her and hugged her as tight as I could.
After pulling away from the hug, she stared at me in disbelief.
"What the hell just happened?" she asked.
All I could do was shrug. How was I supposed to know, it had never happened to me before.
"Whatever it was, it had to have something to do with chicken scratches. Were you scratched by a chicken?" she asked.
I nodded before explaining to her everything that had gone down prior to the transformation. She couldn't help but laugh a little, but I didn't blame her, I had myself a little bit of a chuckle as I spoke.
She told me, "Whatever you do, avoid any kind of scratches from chickens. It could happen to you again, only you might not be so lucky coming back the second time."
Later on that day, I headed out to the grocery store. My wife wanted bread and I happily agreed to go and grab some.
As I headed into town, I had the radio on and found myself jamming to whatever was playing. It was some kind of polka music, only the tempo was far higher than what I was used to. The melody to the song almost felt similar to the 'Chicken Dance'.
Before I realized what was happening, I felt myself shrinking in my seat. The steering wheel was slipping my grip and the gas pedals were getting further and further from my reach. Before my car flipped, I realized the horrible truth. Chicken Scratch is a genre of music.
Returning home from the feed store, my farm looked about as cheerful as it could. The sun was hanging high in the sky, flooding the world with its sweltering heat. I could see the the bugs flying around and the birds gliding and collecting the blooming seeds from the ground.
I got out of my truck and headed inside to see my wife once again. Her name was Jenny. I was the luckiest guy in the world to have married such a gorgeous woman with an attitude and outlook on life incredibly similar to my own. She was short with brown hair, golden brown eyes to match. I walked through the door and was greeted by her warm and welcoming smile.
"Did you get the 'Chicken Scratch' chicken feed like I asked?" she asked sitting back down on the couch and opening her magazine.
I nodded. "I wasn't sure which kind to get so I got both."
"They should work, I hope," she replied, flipping another page. "Can you go out there and feed before it gets dark?"
I agreed and headed out the door. I went to my truck and pulled out of the pack, a bag of chicken food. As I looked over the bag, I felt a sharp pain grazing my leg. I looked down but saw nothing. I ignored it and looked back to the bag, overlooking the ingredients. I then felt another scratching in the same spot, only this time it was followed by the 'Caw-ing' of a chicken.
I looked down to find that, sure enough, there was a chicken that kept scratching my leg. I lifted my leg and kicked it away. After it was gone, I reached down and wiped the blood from the cut away. I made my way over to the chicken coop and poured a little bit of the seeds into a bowl for them.
After stepping away and heading back inside, I felt another scratching from my leg. I started to croak like a chicken and could feel myself shrinking. I quickly charged inside. I was thankful my wife had seen me as I walked in, just before I fully transformed into a chicken. I tried calling to her, but the only noise escaping my beak was that of a chicken.
She looked at me, completely confused and panicked. She looked down at my leg and noticed there being a deep scratch. Speaking aloud, she said, "Chicken Scratch."
Almost the moment the words escaped her lips, I could feel myself growing taller and the feathers shedding from my skin. I felt the beak melt away and turn into my normal, pink lips. I looked over to her with joy and thankfulness in my eyes. I ran to her and hugged her as tight as I could.
After pulling away from the hug, she stared at me in disbelief.
"What the hell just happened?" she asked.
All I could do was shrug. How was I supposed to know, it had never happened to me before.
"Whatever it was, it had to have something to do with chicken scratches. Were you scratched by a chicken?" she asked.
I nodded before explaining to her everything that had gone down prior to the transformation. She couldn't help but laugh a little, but I didn't blame her, I had myself a little bit of a chuckle as I spoke.
She told me, "Whatever you do, avoid any kind of scratches from chickens. It could happen to you again, only you might not be so lucky coming back the second time."
Later on that day, I headed out to the grocery store. My wife wanted bread and I happily agreed to go and grab some.
As I headed into town, I had the radio on and found myself jamming to whatever was playing. It was some kind of polka music, only the tempo was far higher than what I was used to. The melody to the song almost felt similar to the 'Chicken Dance'.
Before I realized what was happening, I felt myself shrinking in my seat. The steering wheel was slipping my grip and the gas pedals were getting further and further from my reach. Before my car flipped, I realized the horrible truth. Chicken Scratch is a genre of music.
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