The Case of the Falling Sky. John R. Erickson
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Название: The Case of the Falling Sky
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887454
isbn:
Yes, these were uncommonly smart birds, and it was pretty clear that they had refined taste in . . . you won’t believe this, but several of them actually wanted to adopt me into their flock, to make me an Honorary Chicken, and, gosh, even to appoint me as their emperor!
Pretty amazing, huh? You bet. Of course I couldn’t accept the offer. I already had a job. (Have I mentioned that I’m Head of Ranch Security?)
I addressed the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, hens and roosters, special guests: I am deeply honored by your offer, but I really have to . . .”
You know what? They were so tightly packed around me that . . .
“Excuse me, but I can’t seem to make my way to the door. Could you . . . will you please back away and let me . . . I’m sorry, but I need to be getting back to my . . .”
They kept crowding around me, clucking and moaning and trying to touch my head with their wings, and all at once . . . I COULDN’T BREATHE!
“Hey! Back off, you meatheads! You’re smashing me, this place stinks, and I have things to do!”
They froze. I saw the hurt and pain in their eyes. They began melting away, like ice cream on a hot stove, and trudged back to their nests. Then I heard a chorus of murmuring voices.
“You don’t like chickens. You’ve never liked chickens. You hate chickens! You’ve always hated chickens! Everybody hates us!”
All at once they were crying. Weeping, if you can believe that. And then came a rumble of angry voices. “And we hate you too! You’re just a pompous fraud! We don’t believe your answer to the Chicken Riddle of Life! Chickens don’t cross the road to get to the other side. That would be dumb! Go away, get out, leave us alone, you hateful thing!”
Oh brother.
I tried to reason with them. “Listen, don’t get your feelings hurt. All at once I couldn’t breathe and I really do have to be . . .”
Would you believe that the old hags started pelting me with eggs? Honest. It beat anything I’d ever seen in my whole career.
Well, I had wanted to leave, so I . . . uh . . . walked briskly . . . ran, actually, to the door and ducked outside, one step ahead of a dozen eggs that splatted against the wall. There, I turned back to the angry mob and, in a voice full of righteous anger, I yelled, “I was right all along. You’re dumb birds, you’ll always be dumb birds, and the next time you need some help . . .”
SPLAT!
Oh well, at least I got a . . . slurp, slurp . . . free egg out of the deal.
J.T. Cluck had followed me and stuck his neck out the door. “Well, you sure got ’em stirred up, pooch. It’ll take me three weeks to get ’em settled down. Thanks a bunch.”
“J.T., from the bottom of my heart, let me say that I don’t care.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’d better care about one thing, pooch, ’cause I’m fixing to make a prediction.” J.T. rolled his eyes up toward the sky. “Tomorrow, the sky’s going to fall!”
I stared at him in disbelief, then burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha! The sky’s going to fall? Hey, J.T., you told me that once before, and you know what? The sky didn’t fall.”
“I got my dates mixed up, is all. But this time, it’s going to happen, you mark my words.”
I turned my back on him and marched away. “Thanks for the information, J.T. I’ll keep an eye out for a falling sky. And the next time you birdbrains need help, call a coyote.”
And with that stinging remark, I left J.T. and all his chicken friends to enjoy their own boring company.
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