I read in the paper (on paper) yesterday that there was a truck crash on I-80, spilling 5,000 chickens onto the freeway which links the Bay Area to Davis, Sacramento, Reno, and the great eastern beyond. 5,000 chickens on the freeway. They were headed to a “Petaluma processing plant.” “Processing?” Shudder. There’s a scary euphemism.
Was this a planned crash? I mean, did the chickens “hatch” a plan and say we’re gonna take this driver out? “Let’s roll!” Or at least, “Squawk!”
I like the thought of I-80 covered with chickens, especially if they had all lived, hopped the fence to Scandia Family Amusement center, and taken over the miniature golf course. They’re living in castles and windmills, disappearing into one of three holes, shooting down secret tunnels and tumbling out into a hole in one. “Squawk yeah! I’m doing that again!”
Months later, the “Occupy Scandia!” signs are tattered. Health problems have developed, of course, because the food supply is mainly astro turf. Some chickens have gone “Inside” and developed video game addictions. (You should see the crowds come to watch Funky on the Dance Dance Revolution 2 game!). Chickens in the batting cages? Forget about it. One pitch and you’re skinless boneless.
Still, the chickens are by and large well organized. It started with 5,000 chickens on the I-80, saying “Squawk this!” but now Occupy Scandia is up to 45,000 chickens. Outraged chickens have risen up all over the country. In fact, there are even youtube videos of chickens in Turkey saying, “I’ve got your kebab right here!” battling riot police with skewers. Other reports have surfaced that Colonel Sanders is in hiding, though still defiant.
I’d tell you more about this, but I actually have a squawkload of work to be doing right now and have no business even writing this chickenscratch.
Be well my peeps!