The door slammed and hurried footsteps flew towards me, skidding to a screeching halt as Joey whipped his head around the doorway. A massive grin spread across his face and highlighted his freckled cheeks, then he wiggled his eyebrows up and down.
“Guess who has chickennn?” he sang.
I slunked lower into the couch.
“Uh, you have chicken?”
“I have chicken!”
A brown paper bag appeared in hand and he waved it back and forth. It was larger than a typical food bag, had holes in it, and wiggled of its own volition against the direction he insisted on waving it.
“Uh… it’s not fried, obviously.
His wiggling eyebrows shot up.
I slunk further into my seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t deal with this. Not today. Not any day.
“I’m not axing it for you. I’m not plucking it. I don’t want to see a mess in the kitchen. I don’t want to hear its screams.”
“Aww, but Jenny…”
“I’ll be in my room, with earplugs in.”
“But Jenny! Chicken is friend, not food.”
“That’s what you said about Goldfish.”
Hullo!! It’s supposed to be #weekendfreewrite day today, but I thought I’d do yesterday’s prompt instead — I have chicken. 😊
You can find the #weekendfreewrite and all #freewrite challenges at @mariannewest’s page. Please join us!
The header image used for today’s post is CC0 and courtesy of Pixabay.
Thank you for reading. 😊
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