Bill Buskirk

There once was a simplistic farmer and his equally naïve wife who had some beautiful, plump chickens in a secure coop. They also had a few prize chickens that were the pride of their lives. One day a sly coyote, the leader of a pack, wanted badly for he and his hungry pals to get at the farmer’s chickens. Unable to dig under the cement curbing surrounding the coop or locate an opening in the wire fence, however, the wily wolf came up with a novel idea. He boldly walked up the pathway to the farmer’s house and yapped a chilling howl.

The slow-witted farmer and his wife answered the door. Alarmed, and having given their weapons up in a government sponsored gun-buy-back, they moved to slam the door.

“Wait!” the desert wolf cried. “It’s not what you think. I’ve changed.”

The couple, never overly bright to begin with, exchanged questioning glances.

“It’s true,” the coyote hurried on. “I’m no longer a carnivore, honest. Now I eat only grains and seeds. I’m a vegan. One night as I watched TV through your window, a PETA commercial with naked women converted me.”

“You can’t be serious,” the farmer exclaimed.

“I am serious too. I’m no longer in the canine family. Now I’m a chicken.”

“A chicken!” the farmer gasped. “Why I declare, you don’t have a feather one on you.”

“Makes no difference,” the coyote responded. “In my mind, I’m a chicken.”

“And your meat look’s stringy,” the farmer’s wife added. “I doubt very seriously if you’d make a decent fried chicken dinner, much less lay an egg.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the animal grinned, exposing pointy teeth. “In my mind, I’m still a chicken.”

The poor simplistic farmer and his equally naïve wife shrugged shoulders at one another. Both walked to the coop and opened the gate, ushering in the four-legged, slobbering mongrel.

That night the couple awoke to a loud racket coming from the direction of the chicken coop. They ran outside in their night clothes to discover the chicken coop gate wide open. Inside and to their horror, they found blood, bones and feathers scattered everywhere.

“Aaagh!” the farmer screamed. “We’ve been tricked! Lied to! Deceived!”

“Not entirely,” the farmer’s wife said. “I kept our own prize chicks in the house with us.”

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

Farmer

Farmer’s wife

Coyote and pals

Prize chicks

Chicken Coop

Chicks

A willful rebel’s poor decisions wreck his life and he shakes his fist at God.