Hail the fowl
I create exciting meals for my family.
Heathy, nutritional feasts to fortify even
Sultry, sensuous, steamy meals of
Yes friends, I have been inspired to
Eyeing the supermarket refridgerated
Little legs bound together, little wings folded
It comes home with me, has a warm refreshing
The soft squishy sighs erupt as my hand
"You can take more.. just a little more..that's it..."
A quick episiotomy ensures all the stuffing will fit.
I reach for the ... um...
Now bear with me.
I am also told, should you be one with extreme
Never again will you Martha Stewarts look
"Eat me"
Well, it SOUNDS like "bwAAAAAAAk", but we all know he
Four hours later..........
"Ahhh little fowl, you taste divine"
Mr Happy glares across the table.
"Stop talking to your food, it makes me feel guilty"
I smile at my plate comfortingly.
Mr Happy glares again.
"Lookit, I just want to eat, I don't want to know about
Damian chews on some gizzard.
Mr Happy puts his fork down.
"Come ON! Can't we just eat it without talking about
We spend the next few minutes in silence, eating
"bwaaak"
Mr Happy looks at him, he looks up at Mr Happy innocently.
It's quiet again for a few more minutes.
"bwaaak bwaaak"
Impossibly held giggles scream to escape from our
It's quiet again for a few minutes.
I put my fork down.
"Honey?"
He blinks, looks up..
"What?"
"Why'd the chicken cross the road?"
And thusly make a mad dash from the kitchen before
*****The Lady named Dave*****
the fussiest of diners.
mouthwatering magnificant munchies
for which I could invited friends, neighbours
and royalty to enjoy.
prepare, with love and tenderness, the
intestinal remains of fowl carcass.
meat section, gazing over many pieces of
flesh, taking note of expiry dates, the lucky
fowl falls into sight. And beside it, a little
prepacked "surprise bag" of gizzards.
neatly at the sides, the headless entity beckons.
bath in my sink. It's puckered little poultry flesh
goosebumps in rapture as oil is delicately rubbed
into it.
fills it to capacity with breads, onions, seasonings.
Gently cooing soft encouragements...
A slice of bread fits just right to hold it all in, with
a few stiches for good measure. The little legs are
rebound, a little pat and the carcass slides carefully
into the roasting pan to bubble and bake happily
for the next several hours.
bag'o'guts.
I swear I'm told they are a delicacy, simmered for
an hour, till tender.. sauteed with onions and garlic,
served over mashed potatoes.
talent, that if you place the heart *just so* on your
tongue, you can make it dance much to the
enjoyment and amusement of your dinnertime
companions.
at poultry the same. Never again will you neglect
to pamper and caress the flesh of the fowl that gave
it's life for you.
Lying it's little chicken neck across the
chopping block, eyes lifted to the heavens, it's last words;
means "eat me".
this dumb bird laying it's neck on some chopping
block!"
"Tasty heart from a fine bird, Dave"
it's life BEFORE it became sliced on our table? Let's
not talk about chickens anymore, ok? Ok."
our meal. Only to have it interupted with a quiet sound
from Lucifers corner of the table.
Except at Damian's
corner of the table.
lips, at the look on Mr Happy's face.
having a drumstick ping me in the head.
Take me home!
Main Dave's Chronicles