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Spitting Feathers


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You can try and justify it all you want, you won't find an answer. I've been scratching my head raw for months. You can take this pencil and paper, and then you can try and count them. It isn't as easy as you think, and to be honest, you're starting to annoy me with your patronising edge.


Chickens keep going missing. I'll lay it bare for you. Every night I wake up and feathers circle my bed sheets. Don't blame my quarters, because my pillow is down. You keep running your mouth off like you do and I'm going to leave you with a face like a torn scone, boy. I'll hit you so hard your clothes will hurt. Just keep counting these feathers and find my chickens!


What do you mean "there's one less"? I know that you fucking idiot. It's been like that for MONTHS. Why do you think you're here? I hired you to count them. I hired you to keep track of them, to make sure none went flying off. What? Chickens can fly. What do you mean "you haven't been watching the skies"? You're a waste of time boy, you know that?


I wouldn't mind if there weren't reminders of my poor chickens everywhere. There's bones, skins, pin bones and poultry wherever I look. My house is like a bloodbath sometimes. The only thing I can do to keep the pain at bay is eat and hope no more go astray. I pick my teeth with the bones I find and it's like they're still here, I can taste them. The air smells of fried skins. It's like they know. I know they miss their daddy.


Look, I know I've been hard on you. I'll tell you what, come to my home, have a beer and I'll cook us something. We'll watch the game, kick back, just forget it for a night, okay? We'll find them. We'll catch the bastard who keeps stealing my beloved birds. Hmm? Oh. I thought I'd cook us a family favourite.


Fried chicken.


Now you get back out there first thing in the morning and find my birds!

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I love the voice in this, like I've said in the voting topic. I'm a little confused at how to interpret the ending, though - perhaps because of the final line. It threw me a little. I sort of saw where it was going when the last couple paragraphs rolled round; there was a twist in there somwhere, and I love the idea of taking the whole counting chickens thing and playing it literally, but with the twist of it being, basically, about KFC. But again, that last line threw me - it's as though it is literal, and the whole fried chicken thing is just a sidenote as opposed to being what it's about. A misinterpretation on my part or, perhaps, a missed opportunity on yours? tounge.gif

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Maybe both!


The general idea is that this man keeps forgetting he's killing his own chickens and eating them, and then can't for the life of him figure out why their numbers are dwindling, one at a time. It's almost like a taunt.


Childish and literal idea, but I felt good about it, haha.

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Aha! I think it's definitely the former, then... that makes perfect sense. Maybe you just need to spell these things out a little more for the slow people. tounge.gif



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Heh. Maybe. My biggest issue is avoiding spelling things out too much for fear of ruining it when I probably wouldn't actually ruin it.

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