Quoting benita:

I DON'T EAT CHICKEN!!!!! Does that make me weird? You decide.
Have you ever heard of, Bantam Roosters? Just imagine this; If Satan, had his own personal breed of chicken, they would be Banty's. Grannie had about a couple dozen, that roamed the farm. They are a small, half wild, and very mean, variety of chicken.

Some of my earliest memories, from about age four, are of those Demons. They stalked Grannies farm yard, and us kids. They would peck, spur and flog us. Often they would chase the dogs and even attack adults. We, meaning my cousin Becky and myself, were terrified of them. Becky was a couple years older than me, and I looked up to her. Sometimes, we would get up the courage to venture out together. Whether it was from unity in numbers, or just boredom from being in the house all day, I do not remember.

It was on a Sunday that I first realized, there was life, after death. Adults and children had been complaining about the roosters. So it was decided, that the ring leader of this band of Satan's spawn, would be sacrificed, in the name of Dinner.

My Aunt Irene was chosen to do the dirty deed, and she requested that I help her.
Following closely on her skirt tails, she skillfully caught the culprit and took him over to a tree stump. She had a hatchet in one hand. I thought it was going to be used, to knock the Rooster on the head, if he tried to peck us.
As I watched in amazement; she stretched the Roosters neck across the stump, and with one quick swipe, chopped it's head off. As I followed the head to the ground, with my eyes; I looked up, and here come this headless chicken, doing about 90 miles an hour, straight for me.

Before I could run or even let out a scream; this blood spurting, headless chicken, ran right up my leg, and I was eye to neck so to speak, with the scariest thing I ever remember. My Dad had been watching from the back porch. He said I covered about thirty feet in three steps. All I remember is screaming hyster

I DON'T EAT CHICKEN!!!!! Does that make me weird? You decide.
Have you ever heard of, Bantam Roosters? Just imagine this; If Satan, had his own personal breed of chicken, they would be Banty's. Grannie had about a couple dozen, that roamed the farm. They are a small, half wild, and very mean, variety of chicken.

Some of my earliest memories, from about age four, are of those Demons. They stalked Grannies farm yard, and us kids. They would peck, spur and flog us. Often they would chase the dogs and even attack adults. We, meaning my cousin Becky and myself, were terrified of them. Becky was a couple years older than me, and I looked up to her. Sometimes, we would get up the courage to venture out together. Whether it was from unity in numbers, or just boredom from being in the house all day, I do not remember.

It was on a Sunday that I first realized, there was life, after death. Adults and children had been complaining about the roosters. So it was decided, that the ring leader of this band of Satan's spawn, would be sacrificed, in the name of Dinner.

My Aunt Irene was chosen to do the dirty deed, and she requested that I help her.
Following closely on her skirt tails, she skillfully caught the culprit and took him over to a tree stump. She had a hatchet in one hand. I thought it was going to be used, to knock the Rooster on the head, if he tried to peck us.
As I watched in amazement; she stretched the Roosters neck across the stump, and with one quick swipe, chopped it's head off. As I followed the head to the ground, with my eyes; I looked up, and here come this headless chicken, doing about 90 miles an hour, straight for me.

Before I could run or even let out a scream; this blood spurting, headless chicken, ran right up my leg, and I was eye to neck so to speak, with the scariest thing I ever remember. My Dad had been watching from the back porch. He said I covered about thirty feet in three steps. All I remember is screaming hyster