Filed under: animals, politics, writing | Tags: humor, political, politics, poultry, random, satire, vegetarians, writing
“What shall we do first?”, squawked Chick, so excited she could barely contain herself.
“Look, sweetie! The first thing we do is get out of these wet clothes”, answered Pearl. “We’ll head over to the condo, freshen up, then hit the streets.
And just when our dear Chick thought things couldn’t get any better, they did.
“Like it?”, smiled Pearl, as she opened the door and Chick’s beak dropped open in awe. The condo was beyond gorgeous, right on the water, brand new, and designer decorated. They each had their own bedroom with a balcony overlooking the beach.
“Could I just live here forever, Pearl?”, sighed Chick as she flopped down on the bed. “It’s beautiful!”
“You can visit whenever you like, girlfriend!”, laughed Pearl as she poured them both a glass of red wine. In another hour, the two were strolling Duval Street with throngs of other tourists. And throngs of other chickens. For once, Chick wasn’t the only chicken on the street, though she was the only one sporting a turquoise backpack and wearing a flowered sundress.
Yes, there were 2000 wild gypsy chickens strutting their stuff in Key West. It was wonderful! Chick was in heaven! She felt happy and safe. Gone was that uneasy nagging worry that kept her glancing over her shoulder, even in Melrose. Here, as a chicken, she was revered and protected. All around her, in the streets, the parks, the old cemetery were chickens! That they weren’t dressed like her and didn’t speak, at least in English, Chick barely noticed. They were her fellow beings, wild and free! How strange and amazing life could be!
Giddy with happiness, Chick proudly marched beside Pearl as they headed for the sunset. The friends had stuffed themselves at The Place, a great vegetarian cafe tucked on a sidestreet. Now, they clapped with everyone else as the sun dipped below the water in a blaze of radiant orange. The only bummer, in Chick’s opinion, was the man who coerced housecats to jump through hoops of fire and perform other humiliating tricks. Chick had turned this jerk in to the Humane Society in Atlanta a dozen years ago, and now here he was again, still plying his cruel trade. I’ll have to deal with it when I go home, thought Chick. Pearl seemed to think the show was cute.
So off they went to watch the turtle races at Harry’s where they had one too many cocktails, then hailed a taxi back to the condo, where they quickly donned their jammies, neglected to brush their teeth, and fell exhausted into a deep and peaceful sleep lulled by gentle waves breaking on clean white sand, yet sprang out of bed by 8AM, eager for the day ahead which they crammed with as much Key West flavor as they could. A glass bottom boat ride, Nancy’s Secret Garden, drinks at Hemingway’s, shopping, a visit to The Chicken Store, of course, coconut cake in Bahama Village, and a swim in the condo pool. By evening they were decked out in their best finery and headed for dinner at The Blue Heaven.
Sadly, this is the point where our story takes a 90-degree turn, where the idyllic little pastel colored bubble Chick had been floating in, bursts, where illusions are cruelly shattered, and the grimy, seedy reality of life once again triumphs over a lovely dream.
Blue Heaven! This charming eatery came highly recommended and was jammed with tourists and locals alike. Pearl ran into two old friends, Charlene and Sunny, and the four sat together chatting and downing Bloody Mary’s for a good hour before being shown to a table. Chick was famished and ready for a great meal.
“Yum! Let’s see….what looks delicious?”, said Chick, opening her menu, and smacking her lips in anticipation. Her eyes froze! There, right in the middle of the menu was……..Chicken!……..Jamaican Jerk Chicken!
“Oh!”, gasped Chick. “Oh!……Oh, no!……I thought……I thought.”
“What is it, Chick?”, asked Pearl. Her companions looked at her with concern.
Chick wasn’t born yesterday, as we’ve mentioned before. She was no spring chicken. She knew that 96% of people in the U.S. ate meat. If she wanted to fit into society (and she did) and go out dining, she had to go with the flow. She wasn’t about to put a damper on this little party. Inwardly devastated, but relying on her innate social graces, she put on a happy face, swallowed her sorrow, and ordered the tofu. She prayed that no one at the table would order the chicken entree, and thankfully, no one did.
After dinner the foursome hit nearly every bar on Duval Street. Chick danced long into the night. It wasn’t until the long drive home that she even allowed herself to think. She tried to curl up and sleep, but she could not get that nightmarish menu out of her mind. People ate chickens in Key West, just not the Key West chickens. Chick had tried all her life to educate folks, by example, by giving speeches, by supporting PETA, seemingly to no avail. People would not eat their pet dog, but they would eat a chicken, a far more intelligent species. Chick knew full well that billions of these innocent beings were raised and slaughtered under horrific conditions yearly in her country alone.
But Chick, in her naivety, had briefly believed that in the tiny paradise at the edge of her world, Key West, the chicken had found a true sanctuary.
We all have our cross to bear. I should have known better when I saw that giant yellow M, thought Chick bitterly as she fell into a fitful sleep.
Next: The Search For Inner Peace
Filed under: animals, humor, politics, writing | Tags: humor, traveling, vegetarians, writing
As always, the night before anything exciting was on the horizon, Chick barely slept a wink. At 7:45AM she wheeled her suitcase out to the road to wait for Pearl. She’d packed and unpacked three times, and tried on nearly everything she owned, hoping to come up with just the right outfits, nearly forgetting her swimsuit and sunblock 45.
Darn, was she still preening her feathers for Mr. Right?, Chick mused, though she quite enjoyed her single status, answering to no one, and free to do whatever she liked whenever she liked. But there were times, especially on chilly winter nights, when she longed for a companion to warm up the bed. She did have many wonderful friends, and here came one of them now to pick her up. Pearl was right on time, looking splendid in her……….Her Hummer!!! Egads!! Pearl was driving a brand new shiny black gas guzzling Hummer!!
Oh, this can’t be happening, thought Chick with dismay. But it was happening. If she wanted to go to the keys, she’d be going in this environmental abomination that belonged in the Sahara desert. Before she could even sputter a word, Pearl jumped out, grabbed Chick’s bag and tossed it in the back, and in one swift movement shoved Chick’s butt in front seat, buckled her in and they were off before Chick could even begin to protest (which in truth she would not have because…..she had her heart set on this trip). I can sacrifice my principles for this one teeny tiny weekend, can’t I?, thought Chick, in burst of pure selfishness.
In a short space of time they were barreling down I-75. It had been plenty of time, however, for Chick to remember that several years ago she had vowed never to get in a car with Pearl as the driver, a sickening fact that she had conveniently forgotten, and now here she was, trapped in a hated horrible Hummer with a lead-footed maniac!
The landscape was a blur, but Chick couldn’t see it anyhow unless she stood up in the seat. “Oh, Pearl, I’m so sleepy, I think I’ll just doze off a bit”, said Chick, and, using a tactic that served her well in times of stress, she fell into a deep sleep, lulled by the sweet sounds of old Joni Mitchell tunes and Pearl’s off key sing-along.
Hours later, she awoke to Pearl’s finger jabbing her in the side. “Wakey, wakey. Lunchtime, sweetie”. Pearl had already spread their repaste out on a shady rest area picnic table, a delicious vegan dish of eggplant parmiagian, carob cake for dessert, and a bottle of sweet red wine. It almost makes up for her driving, thought Chick, as she wiped her lips on the pretty linen napkins.
“Two more hours to Key Largo”, Pearl said as they quite literally climbed back up in the Hummer, whose purchase Pearl defended by some malarkey (in Chick’s opinion) about carbon credit exchange.
“Wake me when we’re there”, mumbled Chick, already nodding off as they pulled onto Alligator Alley. The next time Pearl jabbed her they were turning into John Pennekamp State Park.
“Let’s go for a swim, girlfriend”, said Pearl with her usual enthusiasm. They parked and went into the bathouse to change into their suits. Chick remembered a trip here nearly twenty years ago with her friends Bobbi and Teda. Darn, she also remembered looking pretty good on that trip, too. She decided to put her shorts back on over her suit. Even though she was wearing a slimming black Speedo, it wasn’t enough to hide the bulging and sagging that were inevitable at her age, even with rigorous daily exercise (which she didn’t do). Pearl obviously felt the same way as she emerged wrapped in a silky print sarong that covered her ample body completely. Yes, the days of bikinis for these two were over.
The protected swimming area was just as Chick rememberd it, at least until she put her snorkel on. There were definitely less fish. But it was still beautiful, the turquoise blue water, the azure skies, and the clear air. As she floated on her back, toes pointed skyward, a feeling of peace washed over our little chicken. “Oh, it’s paradise, Pearl”, she said to her friend who had swum up beside her. “No, this is gorgeous! But paradise is two hours south. Let’s hit the road!”
So they dried off, grabbed their clothes, and, still clad in their damp suits, hightailed it back to the Hummer. Pearl fixed up a booster seat of sorts with their luggage so Chick could see over the dashboard.
“Sorry, Chick, I forgot how little you were or I would have gotten you a carseat”.
“Very funny, Pearl”, answered Chick. It wasn’t the first time someone had voiced this insulting suggestion. She had learned to ignore it.
The Hummer was nearly three feet above most of the other cars on the road. Chick turned her head in shame when a couple wearing Sierra Club t-shirts and driving a Prius glared at them. It’s not mine, she thought, but she felt culpable all the same. Well, she wouldn’t let it spoil her trip, she vowed and quite soon Chick forgot about everything else, awed by the sheer beauty of the vista before her. The smooth cerulean blue water, deepening to azure and ultramarine, meeting puffy white clouds with a touch of pinkish rose. The road stretched ahead seeming to disappear in the water and then a lovely little island popped into view, tiny cottages perched on the sand and……..enormous new condos. No, she simply would not allow herself to think about anything negative for just this one weekend.
Didn’t she deserve a respite? A break from carrying the weight of the world on her small shoulders? A reprieve from wearing her heart on her sleeve? Yes, it was her turn.
Chick spotted the sign first. Welcome To Key West, it said, and perched atop was a statue of a chicken. I’m home, Chick thought, with tears in her eyes. This is my spiritual home. I love Key West.
Next: McNuggets in Paradise
Chick gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror. Yes, she could almost see dissolutionment written all over her face. Yesterday she had been flying high, so sure her bus odyssey for peace was a Good Idea, but Boom!, in one fell swoop all her big plans came crashing to a halt, and with them, her spirits.
I feel like going back to bed and staying there, thought Chick morosely. Maybe I am bi-polar. In the wee hours of the morning, caught in the throes of yet another bout with insomnia, Chick had come to the realization that Turkey, bless his heart, had been right.
Last evening Chick’s friend Dorito had driven her to the Gainesville bus station to buy a ticket to Bradenton. Even though the sign said, Open, the door was locked tight. They were closed. A small knot of people huddled against the wall trying in vain to avoid the downpour. There were two women with small, crying children, a forlorn looking man carrying what appeared to be all his worldly goods, and a huge scary looking guy with weird hair and a lot of tatoos. Everyone looked like they had problems, big ones. With a sinking heart, Chick knew right then that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go waltzing up in all her feathered finery, talking about war protests and contacting your Representative to people who, in all probability, were worried about the rent, their next meal, or worse.
I’m too chicken, thought Chick, so distracted she didn’t even realize how absurd that sounded. I have to do Something More, this refrain ran through her mind for the thousandth time, forgetting that she already spent a great deal of her time engaged in political activism. One of her friends had even given her a button that proclaimed, I’m Here To Save The Planet, which she frequently wore,along with her Jail Bush button. She was just about to turn on the tv and watch Dr. Phil when she remembered reading that he made 90 million dollars last year. What had he done with all that money? Chick felt the beginnings of a migraine, though she’d never had one.
She peered into the mirror again, inspecting a suspicious spot on her beak. Why hadn’t she stayed out of the sun when she was younger? Now the “experts” were saying some sun was good for you. It was all so confusing. Though no longer prone to true depression, there were days when Chick could almost see a black cloud above her head. Today had all the earmarks of one of those days.
Her stomach growled, reminding her of the dangers of a drop in blood sugar. I’ve gotta shake off these demons, thought Chick, and, still clad in her nightie, she padded into the kitchen for her morning bowl of cholesterol-lowering oatmeal.
“Oh, fuck it. I’m having a chocolate donut”, said Chick out loud, pulling out the box of Entenman’s hidden behind the canned goods. As she opened her mouth for the first bite, of course that’s when the phone rang. She picked it up out of habit, forgetting to check caller ID. Happily, it was her old friend Pearl’s customarily booming voice blasting in her ear.
“Chick, is that you? What’s shakin’? You’d better be free this weekend ’cause I’m invitin’ you to come to Key West with me!”, yelled Pearl.
Chick’s little heart leaped. A road trip to the keys! She would go, of course she would. It had been years since she’d been there, one of her favorite places in all the world. Her peace plans would have to wait.
“Well, let me think, Pearl. I did have plans on Saturday, but I could change them. I’d love to go”, said Chick. She didn’t want Pearl to think she was a complete dud with zero social life, especially since Pearl had buckets of money, connections, a jet-set lifestyle, and in Chick’s opinion, way too many possessions. In point of fact, Pearl was the poster girl for conspicuous consumption. But Pearl was an old friend, had inherited her millions, and spent lavishly on her pals, her whims, and herself, but pumped a lot of bucks into good causes, too. She lived in a big house on the water in St. Augustine when she wasn’t off traveling the world. The rich were different, yes, but they were still people. with the same hopes, dreams, aspirations, and foibles as the rest of us. In short, they pulled their pants on one leg at a time. What this proved or disproved was an unknown quantity, but it made Chick feel better to think it.
Pearl confirmed the arrangements swiftly. “Fantastic, Chick, I can’t wait to see you! It’s been way too long. I’ll pick you up Friday at 8AM. We’ll have a fabulous dinner at the Blue Heaven and then catch the Sunset. And bring your dancin’ shoes, girl! We are goin’ out!”, shouted Pearl.
And just like that, in the wink of a blink of an eye,Chick’s world turned bright and beautiful. The sun came out, the music came on, and she danced round and round the living room to her favorite Donna The Buffalo CD. And…..life was good.
Next: Paradise
Filed under: politics | Tags: animals, humor, opinion, politics, vegetarians, writing
I’m not always late, thought Chick the next morning as she opened the door to the coffee shop at 10:45 a.m.
“Chick!”, Patricia greeted her warmly as usual, which Chick greatly appreciated. The place was jammed with the regulars, Dorito, Happy, Kooky. Even Turkey was there today, though it was a Tuesday with no chance of Helen’s wonderful wild West Virginia tunes.
And just as she had thought, there were Goosey and Henny already enjoying homemade quiche and a whole wheat bagel. Chick had to forgo the quiche. Eating an egg made her feel like a cannibal, altough it didn’t seem to bother her friends in the least. “I’ll just have a cup of that delicious coffee, please”, said Chick, plunking herself down next to Goosey.
“Hey, girlfriend, what’s this great idea of yours?”. Goosey always go right to the point. “I’ll have you know I rescheduled showing a house to meet you!”.
“You look great, Goosey!”, Chick told her friend, giving her a hug.
“I lost ten pounds and I’m going to lose ten more! I feel fantastic!”, said Goosey, barely remembering her chocolate indulgences of a few days ago.
“O.K.! Here’s my idea!”, began Chick, and with great enthusiasm and many wing gestures, she excitedly outlined the detalis og her Great Greuhound Bus Adventure. “And, I can get a 60-Day Discovery Pass for $538.00. I’m hoping one of you will come with me!”, finished up Chick on a note of expectation.
There was a stunned silence. Finally, Dorito, one of the women from Melrose Surge For Peace, said quietly, “Well, that is quite an idea”.
“Ride a bus? For two months?”, said Goosey. “Oh, I don’t know….I don’t think….Ummm…..I….For once, Goosey was speechless.
Patricia spoke up, “Well, I for one, think it’s a wonderful idea, Chick. A life affirming journey for peace, an empowering step for your species and women everywhere. I would go with you, if I weren’t stuck in this coffee shop, which, don’t get me wrong, most days, I dearly love.”
“I’ll go with you, Chick! It’ll be fun!”, shouted Henny, just as her cell phone rang with annoying musical tones. She rushed outside, out of respect for the others, and the big sign on the wall, No Cell Phones.
“I only rode a Greyhound bus once in my life”, said Happy, with a farwaay look on her face. Everyone began talking at once, weighing the pros and cons of Chick’s plan.
Then Turkey, who had remained silent up until now, cleared his long throat loudly and stood up. “Chick? Do you have any grip on reality at all? You apparently are under a delusion that bus riders are a representative sampling of society. No, my dear, the truth is you will be dealing with the poor, the downtrodden, the alcoholic, the desparate fringe element, not to mention homeless veterans who may very well not only disagree with you, but wish you ill will. You will be seen as a dilatante, traveling by bus as a lark, while for your fellow riders, this mode of transportation is the only one open to them. Believe me, you will not be welcomed with open arms, you and your message of peace. The true believers of God, guts, guns, and country are out there in droves. Go down to the Deli! You’re naive, Chick! You could well end up in a stew pot, along with dumplings and gravy……Just looking out for your well-being, sweetie”. Giving Chick a pat on the head, Turkey walked out the door.
“Humpf!”, said Kooky, “Don’t let the door hit you in your big fat feathered butt on your way out!”
“What? Did I miss something?”, quiered Henny, coming back in after her cell phone chat.
“A man was just giving his much over-rated opinion”, said Patricia, rolling her eyes.
“His opinion on what?”, Henny asked.
“My Greyhound trip for peace. Would you really go with me, Henny?, answered Chick, hoping for support, yet unsure as to how a Republican McCain supporter could be a rider for peace.
“Go on a bus? Why, Iwouldn’t be caught dead on a bus, those smelly, dirty things, packed like sardines with all manner of unpleasant characters, stopping at McDonald’s to eat! Not me!”, Henny threw up her hands dramatically.
“But, Henny, you just told me twenty minutes ago it would be fun”, stammered Chick, puzzled.
“I most certainly did not! I would never even consider such a trip!”, Henny said in a loud voice, grabbing the tambourine and shaking it.
Chick caught Goosey’s eye. They were both thinking the same thing, Chick knew. There was something wrong with Henny.
“Look, Chick, you have friends in Bradenton, right? Why not take the bus down? Check it out first before jumping in with both feet”, Dorito said gently.
Chick looled at her gratefully. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do it soon”.
Next: Chick Takes A Trip
Chick knew she had a good idea. Alas, she had this idea in the middle of the night, in the throes of another bout with a persistent insomnia, and now, in the clear light of early morning, she simply could not wrap her brain around that most brilliant idea.
“It had to do with peace, world peace, something I could do to promote world peace”, Chick mused as she lay in her bed, wiggling her newly polished toes, and listening to the welcome gurgle of the coffee pot. “I could bicycle……no, not that……not swim, either…..oh, I could go on a peace walk, to Tallahassee or even Washington!” Chick had read with admiration of a young couple who had biked across the country last summer in an effort to get folks thinking and talking about the war in Iraq.
“I could do this!”, said Chick, already excited about the possibility. But could I do it alone? If she couldn’t even convince her friends to stand on the corner, undoubtedly they would not be up for a walk to Washington. Maybe one of the women from the monday group would be interested, she thought, though they all seemed to lead full lives. I’d have to eat in restaraunts at least once a day. And where would I stay? I couldn’t count on a church every night, and that means motels. I couldn’t very well camp out by myself. And how would people know I was walking for peace? I guess I could wear a sign, like the old sandwich boards……
Chick gasped. How could I have come up with that analogy?…..On a sandwich board would of course be……a chicken sandwich. Yes, there was a very real danger that someone would see her as……just a meal. The road is a scary place for a woman alone, and infinitely worse for a small chicken. Her good idea was beginning to sound not quite as good.
And, could she really afford a trip like this? Chick had a modest savings, and, though she could scarcely believe it, had begun collecting social security on her last birthday. The catch-22 here was…..how long would she live? Her savings and the interest it earned might possibly last her lifetime (barring unforseen medical catastrophes). But what if she should live on and on? And on?
One of life’s little jokes, Chick said to herself. Put something away for a rainy day, they tell you. Yes, it’s a rainy day, you run out to bring the clothes in from the line, and lightning strikes you dead two weeks after you retire. (This actually happened to an old high school aquaintance, and ever since Chick checked the sky frequently when bringing in the laundry.) So all your scrimping and saving was possibly for naught. You only live once, thought Chick, although since her study of Buddhism, she wasn’t sure if that was true.
All right, she could swing it financially, she decided. But was this walk such a good idea after all? Chick pictured her rather tiny feet trudging step after step after step, mile after mile.
“I need coffee!”, exclaimed Chick out loud. As she jumped out of bed, she felt a familiar twinge of pain in her lower back. Right, she thought. I’ll walk to Tallahassee! I’m so out of shape, I get winded walking to the corner! I’m going to start that new exercise program tomorrow, thought Chick for the gazillionth time.
She settled on her porch with her mug of coffee,slowly sipping the life-giving fluid.
If only I could drive! I could buy a van and put peace signs all over it and even sleep in it! Or I could do an art car! Or anyone of a number of wonderful things!
Her inability to obtain a driver’s license was one of the great personal frustrations of Chick’s life. Goosey is so lucky, fumed Chick, briefly consumed with jealousy toward her dear friend. Goosey was just a foot and a half taller than Chick (depending on whose foot one used), but because of her added height, she could drive. Goosey had her own bright red Mini-Cooper, outfitted with special controls, and she could damn well go wherever she pleased, even though she mostly went shopping.
But Chick was just too small. She couldn’t go on certain rides at Disney World.(She longed to ride Space Mountain). And, she couldn’t drive.
Suddenly, a light bulb, the spiraly kind, went on in Chick’s head. The bus! I’ll take the bus! The Greyhound bus! Now that was a Good Idea! A tremendously Good Idea!
I’ll wear Code Pink T-shirts and all sorts of peace buttons and I’ll pass out literature and I’ll talk to everyone, real people from all walks of life and I’ll start a blog so everyone can follow my progress and when I come back I’ll write a book and be on talk shows and NPR and I…..I’ll discover the heartbeat of America!
Chick grabbed her phone and punched in Goosey’s number. She couldn’t wait to tell her and Henny Penny! But wait she would have to, since both their phones went to voice mail. “Meet me tomorrow at 10:30 at The Cup And Saucer!”, screeched Chick excitedly into the phone. “I have a Wonderful, New, Good Idea!”
She had no doubt her friends would be there.
Next: Bus Bust
As the weekend rolled around, and she received by e-mail, the reminder about Standing On The Corner For Peace, Chick felt herself becoming energized. “Why! I think I’ve rediscovered my social conscience!” thought Chick. Maybe she could round up a few friends to join the group. She knew that inviting Henny was a lost cause, but perhaps Ducky Lucky and Goosey Loosey would accompany her. (Turkey Lurkey was of skiing in North Carolina.)
“Hi Ducky, it’s me,” said Chick when Ducky answered the phone.
“Me. I know quite a number of folks named Me, including Me,” Ducky said in a vaguely sarcastic tone.
“Listen, Ducky, cut the crap, I have something important to tell you”, replied Chick, already exasperated.
“You always do, my dear Chick. I believe last time it was something about the sky?”
“That was a long time ago, Ducky,” said Chick, her face turning hot with embarrassment as she recalled the acorn incident. Still, Chick told him with enthusiasm all about her stand on the corner last week and the wonderful women she’d met.
“Oh, Chick, Chick, Chick”, Ducky said with a long drawn out sigh. “When will you learn? The sixties are over! Everything is done on the Internet these days. Yes, I fully support your efforts, but I shall be protesting from the comfort of my armchair, thank you very much! Count me out, honey! But give Goosey a jingle. She may well be up for making a public display of herself. I hear she’s lost fifteen pounds!” Ducky chortled. “Ta-ta. Gotta go”
“Geeezzz. Men.”, thought Chick. ” Why do I bother?”
She dialed Goosey, who was delighted to hear from her, at least until Chick asked her to stand on the corner. “Oh, Chick, I just couldn’t. I’m so sorry. Not here in town. I could lose clients. Look, I’ll go to D.C. with you, or Orlando again, but not in our small town. Try Turkey. Or Henny Penny.”.
“Turkey’s out of town”, said Chick, “and well…..Henny’s not the Henny we knew any more. She told me she’s voting for McCain.”
“Honk!!! What?”, yelled Goosey, coughing and choking on the slice of chocolate cake she was enjoying as they spoke. “You must be joking!”
“I wish I were. She switched her party, from Green to Republican a couple of months ago. I can’t believe she’s not backing Hillary!”
“Oh, that just can’t be true”, sighed Goosey, calming down a bit. “No one in their right mind would vote for that war monger. And he may choose Huckabee as his running mate! I swear, if those two end up in the White House, my entire flock is heading for Mexico!”
Chick began to feel uneasy. Was there something amiss with her old friend Henny’s mind? For surely no woman in full possession of her faculties would support a man like John McCain, a man who would keep our country in Iraq for what?…..100 years?…..1000 years? A man who was quite happy to have the support of Pastor John Hegee, whom Chick had nightmares about. Yes, McCain was Bush with a brain, an evil brain.
So, something was definitely up with Henny. She had been dressing rather strangely of late, showing up at a Sierra Club meeting wearing red Converse hightops and a poodle skirt!, thought Chick, forgetting that she, too, sported the same footwear.
Lost in this quite unpleasant reverie, Chick remembered that Goosey was still on the phone. “Sorry,” said Chick, “I was spacing out. Let’s do lunch soon. We’ll go down to The Cup And Saucer,and if she pulls that McCain ca-ca in there she’ll have to deal with Patricia. Oh, by the way, I hear your new diet’s been working.”
“Uh, well…..I had company, we ate out a lot, and you know, well, it’s hard”, Goosey stammered, her mouth full of chocolate. “Call me. We can go next Wednesday for music.”
So, a mite disillusioned, but still determined, Chick went to the corner on Monday without her closest friends. And sadly, this week only two other women were there. “Damn it all!”, said Chick, in a burst of profanity, that, for her, were becoming increasingly common. “There oughta’ be hundreds of people out here protesting this illegal war!”
And Goosey should be here, thought Chick. That would give new meaning to their sign Honk For Peace! At least Chick still had her sense of humor.
Next: Chick Has A Good Idea
A few short months ago, our heroine, Chicken Little, had tuned in and dropped out, pledging to spend her time shopping and vegging out in front of her new flat screen TV, watching Survivor reruns.
But darn if she didn’t find herself on Monday at 5PM trudging down to the crossroads of her little village to stand with a handful of other women holding peace signs. These women and an occassional man had been on the corner every week for over six months protesting the war in Iraq, in support of the troops, but wanting to end the occupation and bring them home. And impeach Bush and Cheney to boot. To stand with them was the least Chick felt she could do, and she was warmly welcomed, even though she was so short she could barely be seen
‘ She was doing something,’ Chick said to herself, as she held up her Honk For Peace sign. Then, too, she appreciated the camaraderie, since her closest friend, Henny Penny and she had drifted apart. Henny had voted for McCain in the primary and Chick could barely contain her anger. She herself was a staunch supporter of Hillary Clinton. It was high time a woman was in charge of this country. Forty-three men were more than enough. But Chick was worried. If the women in Texas and Ohio didn’t come through on March 4th, well, it would be Barack. Let him be VP, Chick fumed. She considered herself a feminist, and though she’d been married twice, kept her so-called maiden name, which, unfortunately was Sanders. For if there was anyone Chick came close to hating, it was Kernel Sanders.
‘Yes’, she thought in a rare burst of insight, ‘I do hold hate in my heart’. Kernel Sanders, George Bush, Dick Cheney. Bad men. And then there was the list of dictators published in last Sunday’s paper. Kim Jong-Il, King Abdullah, Robert Mugabe, Sayyid Ali Khamenei. All men, of course.
For this was the burning question that kept Chicklit’s eyes wide open at night, haunted her dreams, found her on the computer at 2AM.
“What is the root cause of the propensity for violence in the male of the species, and how can these violent tendencies be subjugated?”
She had her theories, but, unfortunately, no viable solutions. As she perused the daily online headlines, it was only too obvious that it was open season on women. It was open season on chickens, too, sadly enough, and there was a correlation, Chick knew. A lifelong vegetarian, and now a vegan, she was appalled at the insensitivity of other women toward her species.
‘Oh, if only everyone had the heart of Gandhi’, Chick sighed. ‘Now there was a man.’ Try as she would, she fell far short of her aspirations to follow in his footsteps. Footprints, these days. Chick knew her own dear little three-toed carbon footprint was dainty and left barely a mark. She’d never even used a clothes dryer, for heaven’s sake.
‘Was Gandhi a Buddhist?’ Chick chastised herself for her ignorance on this point. Though she looked on organized religion with disdain, finding it overwhelmingly hypocritical, Chick was drawn to Buddhism and had spent a pleasant weekend several years ago at a river retreat with other like-minded gentle souls learning the art of compassion. Chick prided herself on being able to say, Aria Avalokitshevara, a real tongue-twister for a chicken.
In contemplation of her own Buddha nature, Chick felt in tune with the oneness of all life and could see clearly her own role as a mere player on a stage.
All these thoughts and more went through went through Chick’s mind as she stood on the corner holding her sign, which had become quite heavy during the last hour.
As the demonstrators walked across the street to their cars, the women kindly invited Chick to go out for a pizza after their stand next week. “As long as it’s vegetarian, I’d love to”, said Chick, smiling at her new friends.
Next: Chick Quickly Becomes Disenchanted
Awakened by the call of her bladder in the wee hours of early morning, Ms. Little, affectionately known by her pals as, ‘Chick’, padded bleary-eyed to the bathroom and stepped in, almost slipped in,WATER, nearly an inch of it, up to her cute little ankle.
“Awk!”, cried Chick. “What the Devil is going on?” Simultaneously, as she flicked the switch for the hall light, a light came on in Chick’s head. “The ice is melting! The ice is melting! I must tell the King!”, squawked Chick excitedly, and, rushing out the door, still clad in her flannel nightie (the one with the holes in it), she jumped in her SUV, wings akimbo, feathers flying.
“Oh, my!”, she thought suddenly, “I’d better stop at Henny Penny’s and warn her”, and so, making a quick detour, she shortly pulled up smartly in front of her friend’s new condo, laying on the horn in spite of ordinances. But Henny blew her off, saying there was a big sale at the Mall and just call her later.
Perplexed at her friend’s insensitivity and lack of compassion for the fate of the planet, nonetheless our intrepid harbinger of big bad news carried on, remembering with a start that Henny was a Republican. None too soon, she arrived at the White House and asked breathlessly for an audience with King George. (They had issued an Open Door policy since re-writing the Constitution). Tapping her foot for a good three hours, while common folk begged for all manner of frivolity like heating oil and health insurance, which, while important, were simply not an emergency like her’s, Chick thought. Finally, it was Ms. Little’s turn.
She bowed gracefully, under pressure to come across as believable while wearing her nightgown, breath that could bowl you over, and, she realized with chagrin, bedhead. But, undaunted, Chick stepped up to the Golden Throne. “Sir”, she said in her strongest voice, “I have news! The ice is melting! Remember Al Gore? The man that actually won the…..(Chick stopped herself just in time)….. Mr. Gore? He was right! The earth is warming and the ice is melting! I have proof! Chick held up her foot, which was by now bone dry.
“I think maybe I heared this story before somewhere, not precisely positively absolutey”, said the King, with a frown on his face. “But looky here. I’m the Decider and I say the earth will not be warming! Quit pestering me! Be off or I’ll have your head!
With that, Ms. Little took off just as fast as her stubby little legs could carry her. Her head! She knew all too well about heads being chopped off, many of her contemporaries having met that very fate.
“Shit!”, said Chick, in a rare burst of profanity, “No one will listen to me. I’m going to have lunch at McDonald’s, go shopping, buy a flat screen TV and shut up!”.
So, there she was at the Mall, about to bite into her Big Mac, when…..POOF!…..Chick woke up, sweating and twisted all up in her sheets, but safe in her own little bed. “Why! I was having a nightmare!”, exclaimed Chick. George Bush is still the President, but thank goodness he’s not the King. And I wouldn’t be caught dead driving an SUV. And certainly the only reason I’d enter a McDonald’s is to use their facilities.
Chick got up to get a drink of water, and thankfully, found the floor nice and dry. She had seen Gore’s movie, An Inconvenient Truth, the minute it came out and had worked tirelessly ever since with other activists promoting solutions to what Chick felt was the biggest crisis the planet and all species has ever faced. Increasingly frustrated at the lack of progress, and the lack of any real change on the part of, well, just about everyone, she had lately realized she was downright burnt out.
What was a chicken to do! “You know”, said Chick out loud, “I will go to the Mall and get myself some new clothes, a nice comfy recliner, and a great big TV”.
And that’s exactly what she did.
Next: Re-Discovering Her Social Conscience
