The Deadly Chicken
hat's for dinner?" I asked. "Chicken." Mum replied, engrossed in her
magazine, The Womans Weekly. ''Great!'' I said. I started to charge up the
stairs, but stopped."But Mum, there's nothing in the fridge. Or the
pantry," I added."We'll go shopping soon," Mum murmured, not looking up
once.. "But Mum! The shops are all closed, and I don't want to starve." Mum
groaned and heaved herself up. "Fine, OK, let's go." She smiled wearily.
"There's always an all night supermarket." We trooped outside, and got the
car started.
I was surprised to see one shop open, let alone three! We went to the supermarket, took one look at the food, and groaned. The guy at the cash register called to us. "Our food not good enough?" he asked. I grimaced, looking at the cigarette dangling out of his mouth."No, no. Not at all." Mum said, hastily grabbing a chicken from the stall. "Just this, thanks." We paid and left. "Come again!" cried the man from the cash register.
I sighed as we walked through the door of our house. It was in total chaos.."Dinner!" Mum called. When we didn't get a response, Mum yelled again. "Chicken!" This time, a thundering came from the stairs. "If you break those stairs, you're outta here!" Mum threatened. Greg, Simon, and Ralph yelled in response. This is the Wilson family dinner time. My name is Kim. Now...hold on. You have no idea who I am, so let me explain. I'm ten, and my brothers are triplets, if you didn't guess that already. My brothers are eight, even if they act like they're two all the time. They are all identical( arrrrgggh!) , small, puny and high-pitched voices. Triple Trouble. Their hair as always ruffled, even when it's brushed! I look the same, but with long hair, and I'm, you know, neater.
Anyway, when the chicken was cooking, I looked at the label."Mum!"I shrieked. "This chicken is way off! Look at the label!" I pointed to the label. April, 25th, 96, it read.I groaned. It was over a year old! I looked at the timetable I had picked up at the supermarket. "And all three shops just closed!" I said. "Oh well,"said Mum,"It's still wrapped, right?" "Mum! Don't you get it? This chicken is off. No way I'm eating this off chicken," I said, crossing my arms. "Fine. Have it your way," Mum said absentmindedly. I sighed. Sometimes you can never talk to Mum without her not listening.
Later, I had fixed myself some toast,and sat munching thoughtfully.Mum could get ill from eating that off chicken.Something had to be done.Suddenly, a lightbulb flashed in my brain. It was still flashing as I went into the kitchen, so I turned it off.
My plan was simple. All I had to do was get rid of the chicken. If Mum asked, I'll say the dog ate it.But I had one slight problem. We don't own a dog. So it all depended if Mum asks. Probably, I thought glumly.Wait. Great idea. I could say the boys ate it! I munched excitedly on the remains of the toast I was eating. Then to get them to play along, I'll give them a lolly-pop. Luckily, my friends Dad owns a lolly-pop factory, and she gave me heaps.So I put my plan into action. First I asked the boys. They put up a bit of a fight, but when I mentioned the word lolly-pop, they calmed down immediately. And, they agreed, as long as they got their share. I rolled my eyes as a practically saw lolly-pops flashing in their eyes. Then, I put the next part of my plan into action. "Mum! The triplets ate the chicken! The whole lot!" At this point, the boys glared at me, but I ignored them. "Great," came Mum's reply from downstairs. "I wasn't hungry anyway."I was relieved.
I then put the next part of my plan into...you know. I carried the chicken outside, and buried it as deep as I could into the bin. There, I thought. That should do it. As I walked inside, I heard a low, moaning type of noise. The type if you have a really bad stomach ache or something. I was scared. What if it was Mum? Or the boys? The boys. I spun around, expecting to see Ralph or someone there. There was nothing there.I sighed.Nothing. I had gone two steps when I heard another noise. I turned, slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the noise-maker.As I did, I saw it. It was breathing hard, making raspy noises and the sight filled me with terror. It was...the chicken.
"Help!" I screamed and raced up the stairs. I looked at my watch. Yikes! 10:00! Everybody's probably asleep, I realized. I reached the top, and peered down. Surely it couldn't climb! But it could. Oh, I wish Mum and the boys weren't such heavy sleepers! It made it's way up the stairs, making a steady thump-thump noise. I had a plan. Once it reached the top, it stopped for breath. I breathed in, and kicked with all my might. It flew down the stairs, and landed heavily. Yes! I cheered. But then I realized I had been silly. I went downstairs, full of fresh confidence, although slowly, because I admit. I was still scared. But I mean who wouldn't be? I dead chicken climbing the stairs? Whoa. I crept into the kitchen. No sign of it.I grabbed the kitchen knife. A rustling behind me caught my attention. Then I felt something grab hold of my jacket, and stay there...
"Pussy!" I exclaimed, pullimg the cat off my back. "You scared me!"I turned to put the cat back on the ground. Suddenly, it hissed, and ran away, it's ears down and it's tail between it's legs.I was puzzled. What frightened it so badly? Then I knew the answer, for it was coming right at me! I seized the kitchen knife. The chicken had grown larger, and was clucking like mad. I saw largeteeth had grown underneaththe skin. They looked so sharp, that I imagined it ripping the knife to pieces. Small pieces. "Good chicky-chicky-chicky," I murmered. "I don't want to have to use this thing...stay back...now there's a good chicky boy. The chicken just glared at me with it's beadyblack eyes. Eyes?I mean, chickns have eyes and everything, but dead one's? Freaky. I was beginning to be less afraid of this chicken. Anyhow, the chicken lurched forward. I yawned. All right.I was terrified. But you know the word. I-G-N-O-R-E. I was now coming to my senses. What can a dead chicken do to harm me...Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I dragged my body up the stairs, wincing at the pain in my shoulder where the chicken had attacked.This is what a dead chicken can do to me. Rip me to shreds? Easy. Kind of like rippimg an ice-cream cone, which was all soggy, to this chicken."Great," I muttered. "I have a man eating chicken right here in this house. I've been attacked, nearly ripped to shreds, and nobody bothers to save you.They slept right through it!" I hollered, mostly to myself. I cried. I awoke the next morning with a number of surprises.1. I could move my arm! In fact, to my shock, there was not one sign if a fight anywhere on my body. 2.I was in bed. I thought I had fallen asleep on the stairs. and last, as I went into the kitchen, there was no mess. Our familys pretty neat, but where was the knife and all the blood? My blood, I thought grimly."Mum," I said," There wasn't a big messor anything, was there? Here?" I asked. "What have you done?" Mum asked. "Nothing. But was there?" Mum shook her head, and turned her back to me, obviously annoyed. No? Is it possible it was a dream? No, I decided. It was all very real. Only one way to find out. I walked outside, and bravely stuck my hand into the bin, and cried out in pain.
"It bit me!" I studied the bite marks. They were shaped oddlylike a chicken wing.I shuddered, then slapped myself hard. You've got to get chicken out of your brain! I scolded myself.I went back inside for breafast.
After breakfast, I lay on my bed and read a cool book. Attack of the Grizzly Bears, it was called.It was about a hunter who kills these bears and hangs the skin on the wall.Then one night, the bear skin comes alive and attacks him in the mountain cabin he's staying in to punish him.I was grinning as I read the last page.It was so lame, but cool. Sure that would ever happen. Some writers have a sick sense of humour. That would never happen. And if it did, I doubt I'd ever be there to see it. I chuckled and jumped the last two stairs and went to the kitcken for lunch.
I had lunch, and went up to my bedroom. While playing I realized while I was digging through the bin, I was so busy with that dumb racoon I forgot to check if the chcickien was in there. I hurried outside.It was a cold day, but I didn't care.I looked through the bin carefully, to make sure there wasn't a whole family of racoons down there!I shivered at the thought. Suddenly I gasped. No chicken! I frantically pawed through the mess. I admit it. I wanted to find the chicken to prove to myself that it was all a dream.I groaned, then had an idea. A messy idea, but it was worth it. I heaved with all my might. The bin fell over with a clatter.I peered at the mess, and sighed. The chicken wasn't in there.I heard Mum calling me, so I brushed the mess back into the bin, brushed myself of carelessly, and went inside.
Mum was waiting for me in my room. "What is the meaning of this, young lady?" she demanded.I gulped. She hardly ever called me young lady...unless I was in mega-trouble. "W--w-what do you mean?" I asked, stammering. "You know fully well what I mean," she snarled. I backed away.She was never, ever this angry." Here I am, spending a whole life's career money on keeping this house clean, and you go and make your room a paradise for ants." She swept away with a dramatic sweep. She pointed towards my bed. I gasped in shock. "There! You're horrified I've found out, aren't you?" she said accusingly."I-I- I don't know how it got there!" For there, in the middle of my bed, half-way covered in ants, was the chicken.
I had finished cleaning the chicken, just like Mum had ordered me to before I was sent to my room for a grounding of two weeks, and went to my room. I collapsed on the bed, when Mum called to me."I'm going out! I hope you got rid of the chicken!" "Yes Mum!" I had. I had buried it in an empty lot next door. I saw Mum pause, and then she called again."You know Kim, we havn't had a hearty meal, all of us, for quite a while. What do you think?" "Whatever." I murmered back. "I'll think I'll get chicken." And before I could protest,she took off.
I looked at my watch. Good grief, where was Mum? Just then, I heard a key turn in the lock. "Kim! I'm home! Where are the boys? I would've got some lovely chicken for them, but all the shops were shut by the time I had done the shopping...except for that all night supermarket place." I sighed. "I know I should get some better food for you guys, but I'm already up to my chin with these grocerys." She dumped about a million plastic bags on the table. I was in depair. Another chicken? Oh no. Not again.I slid down the banister. "Kim! Don't do that," Mum scolded. But I ignored her. I rushed over to the chicken she held in her hand. June 1994.....
