The Chicken - a nonsense short story
Created | Updated Apr 22, 2002
Today (22nd April) I dug out a floppy disk I thought I'd lost. On it, amongst other things, I found this. I thought it needed a wider audience. I've edited out some of the bad words :)
THE CHICKEN
The chicken jumped down from it's pillar and stuck it's feathery chest into the shins of the King.
"You can't talk to me like that! I am the supreme chicken. I have commanded armies of thousands. I have conquered lands greater and larger than your meagre Kingdom. I have wedded and bedded the most beautiful women in the world!" screeched the chicken.
"But you're a chicken!", protested the King, turning to his courtiers, who simply shrugged and pretended to be interested in the books they were carrying or the threads of their gowns.
"And you are a mere man! One who got lucky and got to wear that crown. I am the supreme chicken and always will be!" the chicken puffed. It moved away from the King and positioned itself in the centre of the red carpet that lead up to the throne.
"Excuse me, Mr Chicken", said a voice from among the courtiers.
"What is it?" screeched the chicken.
"I allow my subjects to speak!", blustered the King.
"F**k off, fatso. You may be King, but I am the power here!" said the chicken. "Now, who spoke? What do you want?"
A large man in white robes and a tall, white hat approached the arrogant poultry. "I did." He said. "There is something you must know."
"What?" asked the chicken, wings on hips.
"You are not the supreme chicken, you are the chicken supreme"
"You f****rs!", said the chicken, as several angry chefs pounced forward and grabbed the chicken.
"Sorry about that", said the head Chef to the King, docking his tall white hat. "The poultry sometimes overhears things and gets ideas above it's station."
The King left and drank a bottle of Scotch.
October, 1999
THE CHICKEN
The chicken jumped down from it's pillar and stuck it's feathery chest into the shins of the King.
"You can't talk to me like that! I am the supreme chicken. I have commanded armies of thousands. I have conquered lands greater and larger than your meagre Kingdom. I have wedded and bedded the most beautiful women in the world!" screeched the chicken.
"But you're a chicken!", protested the King, turning to his courtiers, who simply shrugged and pretended to be interested in the books they were carrying or the threads of their gowns.
"And you are a mere man! One who got lucky and got to wear that crown. I am the supreme chicken and always will be!" the chicken puffed. It moved away from the King and positioned itself in the centre of the red carpet that lead up to the throne.
"Excuse me, Mr Chicken", said a voice from among the courtiers.
"What is it?" screeched the chicken.
"I allow my subjects to speak!", blustered the King.
"F**k off, fatso. You may be King, but I am the power here!" said the chicken. "Now, who spoke? What do you want?"
A large man in white robes and a tall, white hat approached the arrogant poultry. "I did." He said. "There is something you must know."
"What?" asked the chicken, wings on hips.
"You are not the supreme chicken, you are the chicken supreme"
"You f****rs!", said the chicken, as several angry chefs pounced forward and grabbed the chicken.
"Sorry about that", said the head Chef to the King, docking his tall white hat. "The poultry sometimes overhears things and gets ideas above it's station."
The King left and drank a bottle of Scotch.
October, 1999
