Mrs. Chicken
After two nasty roosters, attacking
anyone in site, ended up in a stew, badgers killed the chicks, no matter what
we tried to protect them. A neighbour’s dog killed the hens save one.
One day, I looked out back and saw Mrs.
Chicken racing around the side of the house, dog right behind. I grabbed my
husband’s air pistol that resembled a forty-five revolver and ran to the front
of the house, yanked the door open, jumped into the stance with gun aimed, my
eyes scanning the right of the front yard. Nothing. I swung my body to the
left, still in shooting stance, gun aimed and ready.
There stood a customer for our
home-based business, flattened against his car in fear.
After explaining the situation minus one
hen or dog to prove it out, he shook his head and laughed.
“You sure have an aggressive sales
technique.”
***
Flash Fiction Picture Prompt Provided by:
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