The Attack of the Chicken

The attack of the Chicken

I was home yesterday morning being Saturday doing some house chores when I got a house call from a neighbor of mine, a wanna-be boyfriend.

Sidi, my flatmate, had gone to the market and I decided to stay home and clean the house a bit, just a way for us to share our chores.

So, I was cleaning the toilet of the self-contain apartment I share with Sidi when I heard the knock. I quickly removed the rubber gloves I was putting on (yeah, I’m an oyinbo like that) and dashed to the door to open it. There Peter stood, with a black poly bag in his hand, and his heart in his eyes. I ignored his eyes and went for his hands (yes, I’m a typical Nigerian woman; it’s all about the goods).

“Hi Peter. What do we have here?” I indicated the polythene bag he was clutching so hard

“Hi T.Y. How are you today?”

“Oh I’m great. Anything for me?” I asked, still staring at the bag.

He smiled nervously. “Oh this? Just a chicken.”

“Say what?”

“A live chicken.” He replied. “I just got it for you this morning.”

“Oh?” Awkward much?

“I thought you’ll love to eat some fresh meat.”

What a gift. By the way, I am terrified of chickens. Oh, the fried and peppered ones I can manage, it’s the live ones that always gets me. I don’t plan on touching it until Sidi gets back; badoo that she is, she won’t hesitate to wring its neck.

“Oh thank you.” I replied him

“You are welcome.” He stretched the bag towards me.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. “You can just drop it there.” I indicated a spot just inside the kitchen. He looked at me strangely but did as I asked.

“Thank you so much.” I said once more as he left

I eyed the chicken with its head popping out of a hole by the side of the polythene bag and it eyed me back. “Behave yourself.” I warned it and went back to my chores.

The next thing I heard was some ruffling from the kitchen direction. Who could it be? After all, it’s just me and the chicken in the house. By the time I removed my rubber gloves (still repping my oyinbo brethren), and got out of the toilet, I found the chicken headed straight towards me, running on its spindly legs as it clucked wickedly. My heart jumped to my throat, and before I knew it I started running too.

“Ori iya mi egba mi o! Sidi, Sidi, where are you when I need you?! In fact, Peter you are dead today for this ‘winch gift’ you give me.” I shouted as I ran as fast as my legs could carry me out of the house.

I collided with Sidi by the door.

“What is the problem T.Y? Why are you running like a bat out of hell?” she questioned

“It’s the chic…chi…chicken chasing me o.” I stammered

“Chicken? What chicken?”

Sidi led the way back into the house and I looked around for the crazy chicken. To my utmost disbelief, it was back in the polythene bag, looking as docile as it looked before it started its crazy marathon.

“That chicken?” Sidi pointed, looking at me bizarrely.

I opened my mouth to speak and no words came. I just kept staring at the chicken wondering if I was mad. Oh, I’m so gonna love you in the pot of soup. I thought gleefully. That will be my revenge.

I swear, the chicken winked at me.


2 thoughts on “The Attack of the Chicken

  1. Awesome. Really funny one there.
    Good thing Aunty Sidi was there to save the day.

    Hmm. This T.Y reminds me of someone.
    Oh wait its me. Though i’m not the scaredy-cat she is. But i still have this fear for chickens, the big old ones especially, i shiver at the sight of them.
    I’ve killed one though, but jeez the goosebumps!

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