Monday, September 27, 2010
Ain't No Fightin' Rooster! ...
One of life's simplest pleasures for Uncle Virgil Hunnicutt was eating fresh, farm eggs for breakfast each morning, preferably fresh, brown, farm eggs ... he usually had at least two of the scrumptious things fried "sunny side up" along with a glassful of fresh squeezed orange juice, sausage, ham or bacon, gravy, grits or hash browns, toast or biscuits with butter and jam, and at least two cupfuls of hot, black coffee--but most of all he loved to eat those eggs ... as Virgil got older, and older and eventually even older, it became quite evident that it was just too much of a chore for the ravenous, nearly deaf and blind centenarian to walk all the way into town each morning just to have breakfast at the Corner Cafe, especially in bad weather ... so Uncle Virgil decided to acquire a few prime laying hens and an adequate rooster from Grandpa DooLittle, then keep the prized flock in an old shed located right behind his house which he had converted into a makeshift chicken coop ... that way he could have fresh eggs "on demand" right outside his door anytime he got a hankerin' ... besides, Virgil was a danged good cook, and didn't at all mind preparing his own food, which he by far preferred over the fare offered at the diner ... so Uncle Virgil got about half a dozen or so of the finest Rhode Island Red laying hens along with an energetic, brightly colored, black and auburn Welsummer rooster ... and forthwith began gathering fresh, brown eggs at home every morning.
Now this particular rooster didn't resemble most other run-of-the-mill, henhouse roosters around those parts, daily strutting around the yard like he owned the place ... this rooster was leaner, meaner and more athletically put together, like one of those fightin' roosters sporting an extremely proud and aggressive demeanor, yet Grandpa DooLittle had assured Uncle Virgil of the fact that "he sure ain't no fightin' rooster" ... but no mortal human being other than Uncle Virgil could get anywhere within forty feet of this pugnacious bird without chancing an immediate, wanton and severe flogging, it's razor-sharp spurs capable of slicing one to the bone, and Virgil would often feed the obstreperous fowl cracked corn right out of his bare hand treating it as if it were a pet ... unfortunately word spread about the dangerous critter that Uncle Virgil Hunnicutt had been keeping in his backyard.
So when Uncle Virgil summoned Lester DooLittle to come over and build a modern and proper hencoop--his request was met with more than a bit of trepidation on Lester's part--"ain't no way I'm a comin' over there with that there killer beast a runnin' loose!" he adamantly declared ... well Virgil assured Lester that he would straightaway put the rooster in a secure location so he could safely come over and begin construction ... confident that Uncle Virgil would do exactly as he had said, Lester gathered his carpenterin' tools and headed over to Virgil's place ... in the meantime Uncle Virgil had chased that rooster all around the yard trying to catch him, but couldn't even get within arm's reach of the agile, quick-witted cackler ... so when it finally ran through the open door of an abandoned panel truck hidden behind some bushes near the fence, Virgil quickly slammed that door shut thus entrapping the speedy and elusive bird inside, at least Lester DooLittle should now remain unscathed when he entered the property ... no sooner had Virgil walked out of sight than Lester pulled up in front of the gate ... the wide-eyed boy slowly slid out of the still running truck and began nervously looking all around for any sign of Virgil's rooster ... seeing no rooster and satisfied that he was in no eminent danger, Lester shut off the truck's engine, grabbed his tool belt, entered the gate and began gingerly walking toward Uncle Virgil who was now standing near the spot where he wanted the new henhouse to be built ... Lester had made it about half way between the front gate and Virgil's front porch when he heard the loudest, most frightening and furiously angry sound seemingly right next to him that he had ever heard in his entire wretched life sending icy shivers straight up his back "kukukukukukuk cock-a-doodle-doo! ... kukukukukukukuk cock-a-doodle-dooooooooooo!!" ... Lester was certain that ol' rooster was comin' for him and frantically cried out "you was supposed to put that rooster someplace where it couldn't hurt nobody old man!" ... Lester DooLittle was so scared he didn't know whether to run like a scalded jackrabbit or just fall over stone-cold dead right there on the spot, but his feet had already made the executive decision to run to the nearest haven of safety--that junked panel truck sitting right there smack dab in the middle of those bushes ... as Lester jerked open the door, dived into the back of that rusty junker and slammed the door shut behind him, amidst his own screams of agony he thought he could hear Uncle Virgil Hunnicutt's reply "I did put him where he couldn't get to you Lester ... he's inside that old panel truck there in the bushes!"
Notice: No poultry of any sort were harmed during the writing of this story ... can't say the same for Lester DooLittle!