Clucked! - 2 (Patreon)

“Holy Shitbags, dude,” Alton said the next day as we got ready for work.

“What?”

“Felicia told me you asked her out!”

I nodded, pulling the chicken suit up. It still smelled like sweat. I’d had night class the night before and hadn’t had a chance to wash it.

“Spill, bro! You been trying to work up courage to do that for years!”

“I dunno, I was sooo tired from being outside in the heat with this fucking thing,” I held up the chicken head which I was beginning to hate with a passion. “It’s at least ten degrees hotter in here.”

“I don’t care about that, tell me what you said to my sister!”

“Anyway, yeah, she took me home cuz I was so fucking tired, and it just sorta spilled out.”

Alton shook his head as he put his uniform on. “Wow. Just like that. And Jimmy got game!”

“Eh, more like Jimmy had heat exhaustion. I literally had chills from the heat, dude.”

“Ah, yeah I get that. Eat bananas, they help. And you need like a gallon of water out there dude.”

“I’m bringing it,” I said holding up my water container. I’d filled it with ice and water and it was supposed to keep it cold all day long.

Luckily, that day the Monsoons decided to make a reappearance and the temperatures stayed in the low 100s. I stood outside and danced, spun my sign, and when the rain came my feathers got a bit flattened but it felt good so I stayed out there and danced in the rain.

After the storm, I had lunch so I pulled off my sopping wet chicken head and went inside. Feathers fell off onto my face and exposed skin areas. I spit them out as I ate my lunch, but I think I swallowed a couple.

“Stinks like wet chicken in here., Felicia said, passing by and going into her office.

“Hah, well. At least it’s a bit cooler.”

“Don’t lose all them chicken feathers, baby, or I’ll have you remake that suit. It was expensive!”

“I won’t. I just liked being in the rain after all the heat.”

“I bet,” she smiled. “Keep up the good work, honey.”

“I will! I intend to make good on your offer!”

She smiled and turned back to her computer screen.

Alton came in at the end of our convo and he grinned.

“Jimmy got game!” He mouthed as he sat down in the other chair.

“Shutup!”

He coughed. “So, how is it out there today.”

“Not too bad. At least the rain has cooled things off a bit.”

“I can see that. You got chicken feathers right here—”

He reached up and pulled them away from the side of my mouth. With all the heat and the water, they’d embedded themselves a little in my skin so it stung a little when he pulled them off.

“Dude, you are covered in these feathers.”

“I know,” I said, my mouth full of chicken. “But I gotta get back out there.”

Alton shook his head. You got class tonight?”

“No.” I said, putting my costume head on. “Want to come over and we can continue our Campaign?”

“I’ll be there. You’ll call Scott and Mike?”

“Yup.” I said. “Talk to you later, man.”

“Have fun out there, Jimmy.”

I nodded and yelled “B’CAWK!” and dashed outside.

***

Chicken Hut stood on the southwest corner of University and Mill Avenue which was just down from Arizona State University. People sped by in cars, trucks, bikes, motorcycles, all intent on their destination. When the light changed, I’d do my little dance, sometimes playing the giant arrow like a guitar, sometimes spinning it over my head, but trying to attract as much attention as I could.

In 1987, attention was not something you wanted. Kids mocked me, laughed, shook their head, then threw whatever happened to be in their car at the time, usually at my head. This angered me, so I’d yell at them and flip them the birdie bird, but I didn’t let it break my spirit.

I’d already witnessed a few close calls with vehicles stopping short at the light. Once, a Mustang came barreling down the street and the light changed, and rather than stopped the driver laid on the horn and sped through the intersection, almost hitting a toyota corona that had begun puttering through the intersection.

The rain made the streets slick, and I saw a number of vehicles slide to a stop. It was also a popular place for girls to walk, their short shorts and tanktops plastered to their bodies from the rain. People would honk at them, catcalling, and they’d giggle and wave at me as they passed by my intersection.

As I watched one young lady as her backside passed me, I heard the loud bray of a semi-truck. She looked up, and her eyes grew wide as she pointed.

I turned around to see the semi-truck trying to stop at the light, but his tires skidded on the pavement, rocking the truck back and forth. The cab stopped, but unfortunately, the back-end of the truck veered into the oncoming traffic lane—right at me.

The trailer tipped, falling on it’s side with an immense crash as I ran the opposite direction. I grabbed the hand of the girl and dragged her along with me. She started to scream as I heard the crashing of the rolling semi-trailer getting closer and closer.

Finally, I pulled her into the Chicken Hut parking lot, shoving her hard to get her out of the way of the crashing trailer. My stupid chicken feet made running fast nearly impossible, and I stumbled, falling down in the entrance of the parking lot.

The trailer crashed right behind me, the doors falling open, and something splashed out. Liquid came flooding out in a torrent, splashing all over me and I ducked, putting my wings over my head to try to avoid being drenched.

“Get out of there!” someone yelled, I assumed at me and I stood up, trying to run again.

The door of the semi tumbled over and struck me hard on the back. I felt something crunch in my back, then my head hit the pavement. 

Darkness intruded.

My last thought before consciousness left me was that now I wouldn’t be able to make our date on Friday night.