The Case of the Falling Sky. John R. Erickson

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СКАЧАТЬ I paced.

      “Okay, J.T., let’s cut the nonsense and get down to business. I have to ask you some questions.”

      “Fine with me. Ask me anything, anything at all. Ask me about heartburn.”

      “I’m not interested in heartburn.”

      “Well, you would be if you had a gizzard. You dogs have no idea what it’s like, going through life without teeth and having to grind up all your food with a gizzard full of rocks.”

      “I’m not interested in your problems, J.T.”

      “I know you ain’t, and that’s shameful. How would you like it if you had to eat rocks every day of your life, huh? Buddy, you talk about heartburn! You try eating rocks and crickets and grasshoppers and I’ll show you some heartburn.”

      “Are you finished?”

      “No, I ain’t finished. The worst heartburn of my life came from eating a squash bug.”

      “Drop it, J.T., and answer my questions.”

      He twisted his head and stared at me with his red rooster eyes. “You ain’t asked any questions, so how am I supposed to answer ’em?”

      I paced over to him and glared into his face. “J.T., something funny was going on in here tonight, and I want to know what it was.”

      J.T. cut his eyes to the side and lowered his voice. “It wasn’t funny, I can tell you that right now.”

      “Keep going. What wasn’t funny about it?”

      “It wasn’t funny because . . . well, just because it wasn’t funny. You didn’t hear anybody laughing in here, did you? That’s a clue right there.”

      I heaved a sigh. “Tell me what was going on, and hurry up. I’m a very busy dog.”

      “Yeah, I’ve seen how busy you are, sleeping all day and all night on that gunnysack bed.”

      “J.T. . . . ”

      “A rooster would get fired for laying around all the time. We’ve always got things to do—bugs to chase, gravel to peck, and don’t forget who crows up the sun around here. Me.”

      I gave him a snarl. “Quit yapping and tell me what was going on in here tonight!”

      “Well, all right, fine, if you’re going to get all hateful about it! What was a-going on in here tonight?”

      “Yes, that’s the question.”

      “Well . . .” He glanced around the room. “You’ve got to promise you won’t go blabbing this all over the ranch.”

      “Hurry up.”

      “Well . . . you see, we was . . . talking . . . having a discussion.”

      “Go on. What were you discussing?”

      “Well, it was a pretty deep discussion. It might be over your head.”

      “Try me.”

      J.T. narrowed his eyes and whispered, “You know, pooch, chickens have been on this earth for a long time.”

      “Right. What’s the point?”

      “Huh? The point? Well sir, the point is that our ancestors have walked this earth and pecked gravel for thousands of years.”

      “This isn’t another heartburn story, is it?”

      “No, it sure ain’t, and if you’ll hush up, maybe I can tell you what it is.”

      “Hurry up.”

      “I’m a-hurrying. You see, pooch, for thousands and thousands of years, and for centuries and centuries, and for decades and decades, our ancestors have walked this earth. They’ve helped rid the world of grasshoppers and crickets, beetles and pillbugs, and other pests that don’t even have a name. But through all their suffering and hardship, there remained one great question that no chicken was able to answer.”

      I waited. “Yes? Keep going.”

      “Well, that’s what we were discussing this very night, and we didn’t find the answer, even though we stayed up half the night and lost a bunch of sleep.”

      “What was the question?”

      He gave me a wary look. “I don’t know that I should tell you, ’cause you ain’t a chicken.”

      “I’m Head of Ranch Security. I know every secret on this ranch.”

      “You don’t know this one, pooch. It’s the Chicken Riddle of Life, and no chicken has figured it out in ten thousand years.”

      “Try me.”

      “Well . . . all right. Here goes.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Pooch, for ten thousand years chickens have been crossing roads . . . but none of us has ever figured out . . . WHY.”

      The air hissed out of my lungs. I paced a few steps away, then whirled around to face the audience of staring chickens. “All right, I want you to pay close attention to this. I’ve wasted half my night on you dumbbells and I want you to listen, so that we’ll never have to go through this again.”

      Dead silence and total attention. The chickens held their respective breaths and waited for my announcement. You could have heard a needle in a haystack. I continued.

      “I’m here to address the burning question: Why does a chicken cross the road? For centuries, your ancestors searched for the answer but never found it. I will now reveal it to you.”

      I had them in the palm of my coconut. Every chicken neck bent forward, every ear was turned in my direction . . . although chickens don’t actually have ears. How do they hear? We don’t have the answer to that, but the point is that this was a very dramatic moment.

      I gazed out at the audience and plunged on with my speech. “Ladies and gentlemen, hens and roosters, distinguished guests: a chicken crosses the road . . . TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE.”

      For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. Then the silence was broken by the sound of twenty-seven hens and one rooster gasping in unison. Then, suddenly, the place erupted in cheers and applause, and I was mobbed by a crowd of grateful chickens. They were cheering and laughing, reaching out their wings to touch me, and calling out my name: “Hank, oh Hank the Cowdog! You’ve answered the Chicken Riddle of Life! Oh, wise dog! Oh, wonderful pooch!”

      Well, I . . . I hardly knew how to respond. I mean, I’d always thought of myself as smarter than your average dog . . . and better looking . . . but still, it was a little embarrassing, to tell you the truth, all those hens gasping around me and fainting, reaching out to touch me and crying out my name.

      It was the kind of scene you might have in your wildest dreams but never expean to expectorate in real life . . . expect to experience in real life, shall we say. It was almost too good to be true, is the point, and very humbling. Very very humbling. I was so humbled, so СКАЧАТЬ