So this afternoon I'm laying out there on the plaid couch by the boat in the front yard and I have the bug zapper from the front porch laying beside me and I'm pretending to be asleep.
But I'm not.
I'm fully alert and ready to spring into action at a moments notice ...
I see the insane chicken sneaking across the front yard trying to hide in the weeds ... but its useless ... I'm locked on him like a fighter jet radar system.
But I accidently dozed off ...
It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it wasn't a hexed raccoon, drawing me into its gnashing teeth. it was that danged chicken, clawing at the area between my legs.
She ( aka "the danged chicken") had been poised up on the boat and stalked me. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
Now when men feel pain or even
sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed.
Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of an insane chicken and rectify the situation in a step-by-step procedure. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome; men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.
Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The bug zapper I was holding bluntly impeded my ascent; my fingers on the left hand entered the bug zapper and the electrical impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter. My pants were down around my knees and wife told me I should be flattered.
Later up at the Coffee
shop, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me as for the reason my eyes were bloodshot and my left hand, fingers and groin area supported large bandages. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk.
And when one of them asked if I wanted a fried chicken sandwich I began to cry.
If they had only known.
TT
