The Christmas Chook

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Christmas is egg nog, but I still need coffee.*

 

Dear Readers,

My Christmas gift for you…

‘THE CHRISTMAS CHOOK’

Enjoy.

 

A few years ago, an old lady lost her husband…well…it is not that he went out somewhere and she lost him, the old chap passed away.

The old lady was very sad as her husband was not only the only man she had ever loved but, he was also her best friend, mate, confident and life partner.

To be loving and cheeky, she called him ‘The Old Fuddy Duddy’ and, as he felt the same way, he called her ‘The Old Chook’ and so…that was what they were named thereafter.

The Old Chook and her husband had a wonderful relationship and put up with each other yelling all the time.  It was fine because they were both very hard of hearing, but not deaf.

The Old Fuddy Duddy and the Old Chook had an only child, a son. The son knew his mother loved animals and because he wanted to help his mother feel less alone, he gave her a tiny fluffy yellow chicken.  He figured it was an animal easy to look after and although his mother was poor she could afford chicken feed and water.  Besides, the chicken could keep her company.

The Old Chook loved the little chick and being very small, she would carry it around all day with her.  To help the chicken feel a part of the household she called the chicken ‘Little Chook’.  So now there were two of them, the Old Chook and the other, newer and younger Little Chook.

The Old Chook was very good at looking after Little Chook who was provided with a nice bed in a box and cage with the door always left open.  Little Chook always had fresh water and seed and, a special cushion to sit on the lounge and watch television.  Not only that, Little Chook was often taken for walks.  It was pretty easy, although the Old Chook was deaf, she had excellent eyesight and daily took Little Chook with her on a ribboned leash.  They would perambulate regardless of the weather.  Though naturally, if it was too hot or cold they would stay at home.

However there was one issue, Little Chook was skittish about walking on the same side of the pavement as the roadway and would often make a small kerfuffle.  Fortunately, the Old Chook was aware of this and mainly walked Little Chook on the side away from traffic.

Days, weeks and months passed as the seasons and the snows of winter began to drift silently to the ground and they walked less.  During this time the Old Chook noticed that with less walks and exercise Little Chook was becoming rather plump, soft and for a chicken, rather tender looking.  The Old Chook only realized this when she began to think about her coming Christmas Dinner.

The Old Chook had to be careful with her personal finances and would sometimes see Little Chook in a different way as she considered her next Christmas dinner.  The Old Chook, in her mind, saw a plump, featherless, browned and stuffed chicken surrounded by baked potatoes and peas, whilst being covered in rich but lightly seasoned dark gravy and, the panic stricken kerfuffles during street walks would be silenced forever.

Poor poor Little Chook.  What was to become of her?

What WAS to become of her?

There were a few days break in the frigid cold and constant snowfall and the Old Chook felt it was time for a short walk with her companion.  Although the Old Chook did not feel particularly well or mentally ‘with it’ she felt a degree of cabin fever.  After all, they had been housebound for two weeks now and the Old Chook knew she would feel better by being outdoors.  Little Chook did not want to go outdoors but when she realized there was no point in complaining and putting up a fuss, she obligingly complied with the Old Chook’s insistence.

They were both rugged up in their woollies to keep the insidious iced hands of frigidity at bay; even Little Chook had a vest as they strolled the sidewalk.  Unfortunately, Little Chook, who was hopping along the side near the curb was feeling rather unsettled, frightened in fact.

Suddenly in the flash of a few moments…Little Chook became extremely agitated, going crazy squawking, jumping, flying doing anything she could to escape from her lead but as she tried to fly away she kept on bumping and crashing into the Old Chook.  Little Chook was indeed in a real panic that was very far past the stage of being simply kerfuffled.

 

Kerfuffled

 

The Kerfuffled Little Chook

Just as Old Chook herself was flustered, without warning, a crazy driver in a beat-up car came from behind, mounted the curb and crashed into a pole!  Right in front of the two hapless pedestrians being Little Chook and Old Chook!  They could not believe it!  They were not only flustered but now they were flabbergasted, stunned, mortified, horrified, aghast and, very very frightened.  They could have been killed!

The Old Chook, composing herself a little, tenderly picked up her hapless shaking, trembling, shivering, very frightened friend, bundled her underneath her cloak and together carefully made their way home.

The next hour, inside the warmth and refuge of her cage, Little Chook slowly recovered as she realized the Old Chook was preparing something in the kitchen.

The Old Chook came to the cage and carefully lifted her friend from her warm bed, carried her to the lounge and settled her into her favourite cushion.

Although Christmas was a week away, and…after all Little Chook and Old Chook had been through this afternoon, it was time for something stronger than tea.

As the Old Chook sat there thinking whilst enjoying her egg nog, she picked up the phone and dialled her son.

The phone answered.

“Hello dear…just wondering…instead of having my regular chicken dinner this Christmas, what say I buy a nice fat turkey, stuff it and come over to your place instead?”
Her son was thrilled and they both excitedly looked forward to Christmas dinner.

The Old Chook sipped her egg nog, winked at Little Chook and smiled.

Merry Christmas,

Happy holidays all,

Take care,

 

V L.

jolly coffee3

 

* Image courtesy of Coffee Drinker Cafe http://coffeedrinker.net/

** Image courtesy of livescience.com © 2013-2015 CoffeeDrinker.net

©V L. Verdéaux 2013, 2017, 2018

 

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