A coward, an asshole and a little bitch: The hypocrite that I am.

#1
Dinosaurs had feathers. They looked nothing like the ones in the movies and books. That's what a new science report says. Chickens are descended from dinosaurs. They are related. Think Tynosaraus X and its viciousness then think chicken attacking bugs. You see? They are totally related.


I don't like Chicken. The food that is, I don't mean the bird, I like the birds just fine. Giving it a second thought, I do like Chicken; roasted or deep fried chicken. Dry chicken. I can't stand wet chicken. If a chicken meal has soup in it, I completely loose my appetite because the smell reminds me of live chickens and events I would rather forget.

When I was really young, my mother reared chicken. A sizable amount, about 20 of 'em in our little home enclosing.

We got along just fine, me and the chickens. Most of the time that is. Then they would hatch their eggs and our friendship would come to an end. They would bully the shit out of me. They gave me a beating (a pecking?) every moment they could steal. Mother hens are overprotective assholes. I would try to help out the little chicks and the mother would attack me! The nerve!

You know what the catch is? You can't attack back. No revenge for you. If you hit a chicken back, no matter how hard it had hit you, it might just die. They are weak buggers, those animals. So when it attacks, you just take the beating like a man. Or in my case, like a little bitch. I cried a lot during those dark times while my mother watched and laughed her ass off. Twas dark and evil times those.

My mother brought a new chicken home one day. She put it in the enclosing and closed the door and left. The other chickens attacked it immediately. I yelled at them but they wouldn't stop. I pelted stones at them through the small openings. They wouldn't stop. They stripped the feathers off that chicken's head. Then they stripped off its skin. Its skull burst open and out came a whitish goo:brains. By the time my mother came back, the chicken was already dead. I watched it, petrified, unable to say a word. Shook.

And that is how I stopped eating chicken. I would try to eat chicken and the image of that one chicken lying down, its head skin bare, its skull open and its life slowly ebbing away would pop in my head. I know, I know, I am a little bitch. I got PTSD from watching a new chicken die!

Those old asshole chickens. There is joy in watching a chicken grow from a small chick to a full adult Cockerel whose time is best spent terrorizing small hens. I watched so many chicks grow up. I would spend hours prying away the cockerels from the hens as I thought they were hurting the sweet little hens. No one ever corrected me because I think no one dare tell a child that chickens reproduce by rape.

Some day later, my mother got hold of the cock that I had had so much fun chasing after that morning. She proceeded to hold it by its neck and cut the neck off while the cockerel quacked in pain and watched me with its beady eyes, begging for help and mercy. There lay my long life friend. A bird that I had watched grow from chick to huge cockerel. It thought me a traitor as it died. And that's how I became a chicken vegetarian. How could I eat the meat of a relative of a friend that I had betrayed? No.


High school. We were served food according to tables. Once you were assigned a table, you would eat from it for 2 years or so before being reassigned to another Table.

I was in form 2. This form 3 boy saw an opportunity to bully me. You see, I am really non-confrontational. I just watch and never really say anything while being mistreated. I just take it all like a man should. I don't like drama. I would rather suck it up.

So, this boy got into the habit of eating my servings. I would walk into the dining hall and find my breakfast gone. He would be holding two servings. If I asked him where my breakfast was, he would look me in the eye and tell me that he had gotten the extra breakfast from the other table. I would then walk out of the dining hall and go sit in class. Eventually, I stopped taking breakfast and my serving was truly his. He ate my breakfast for 2 years.

Some months before he did KCSE, we went for mid-term holidays. He never came back. We were sitted around the table when it was announced that he had died from a road accident.

I burst out into hysterical laughter. I got dirty looks but it was totally worth it. He was dead. I never got my 2 years worth of breakfast back, but he was dead. I never felt a hint of sympathy for him. I was genuinely happy.

See, I sat with a person on the same table for 2 years. He died. I laughed and was happy.
I also shed a tear and went vegan when I watched a chicken that had possibly pecked the shit out of me earlier.

I am a bitch and an asshole at the same time.

Ps. What am I even saying?
 
#10
Dinosaurs had feathers. They looked nothing like the ones in the movies and books. That's what a new science report says. Chickens are descended from dinosaurs. They are related. Think Tynosaraus X and its viciousness then think chicken attacking bugs. You see? They are totally related.


I don't like Chicken. The food that is, I don't mean the bird, I like the birds just fine. Giving it a second thought, I do like Chicken; roasted or deep fried chicken. Dry chicken. I can't stand wet chicken. If a chicken meal has soup in it, I completely loose my appetite because the smell reminds me of live chickens and events I would rather forget.

When I was really young, my mother reared chicken. A sizable amount, about 20 of 'em in our little home enclosing.

We got along just fine, me and the chickens. Most of the time that is. Then they would hatch their eggs and our friendship would come to an end. They would bully the shit out of me. They gave me a beating (a pecking?) every moment they could steal. Mother hens are overprotective assholes. I would try to help out the little chicks and the mother would attack me! The nerve!

You know what the catch is? You can't attack back. No revenge for you. If you hit a chicken back, no matter how hard it had hit you, it might just die. They are weak buggers, those animals. So when it attacks, you just take the beating like a man. Or in my case, like a little bitch. I cried a lot during those dark times while my mother watched and laughed her ass off. Twas dark and evil times those.

My mother brought a new chicken home one day. She put it in the enclosing and closed the door and left. The other chickens attacked it immediately. I yelled at them but they wouldn't stop. I pelted stones at them through the small openings. They wouldn't stop. They stripped the feathers off that chicken's head. Then they stripped off its skin. Its skull burst open and out came a whitish goo:brains. By the time my mother came back, the chicken was already dead. I watched it, petrified, unable to say a word. Shook.

And that is how I stopped eating chicken. I would try to eat chicken and the image of that one chicken lying down, its head skin bare, its skull open and its life slowly ebbing away would pop in my head. I know, I know, I am a little bitch. I got PTSD from watching a new chicken die!

Those old asshole chickens. There is joy in watching a chicken grow from a small chick to a full adult Cockerel whose time is best spent terrorizing small hens. I watched so many chicks grow up. I would spend hours prying away the cockerels from the hens as I thought they were hurting the sweet little hens. No one ever corrected me because I think no one dare tell a child that chickens reproduce by rape.

Some day later, my mother got hold of the cock that I had had so much fun chasing after that morning. She proceeded to hold it by its neck and cut the neck off while the cockerel quacked in pain and watched me with its beady eyes, begging for help and mercy. There lay my long life friend. A bird that I had watched grow from chick to huge cockerel. It thought me a traitor as it died. And that's how I became a chicken vegetarian. How could I eat the meat of a relative of a friend that I had betrayed? No.


High school. We were served food according to tables. Once you were assigned a table, you would eat from it for 2 years or so before being reassigned to another Table.

I was in form 2. This form 3 boy saw an opportunity to bully me. You see, I am really non-confrontational. I just watch and never really say anything while being mistreated. I just take it all like a man should. I don't like drama. I would rather suck it up.

So, this boy got into the habit of eating my servings. I would walk into the dining hall and find my breakfast gone. He would be holding two servings. If I asked him where my breakfast was, he would look me in the eye and tell me that he had gotten the extra breakfast from the other table. I would then walk out of the dining hall and go sit in class. Eventually, I stopped taking breakfast and my serving was truly his. He ate my breakfast for 2 years.

Some months before he did KCSE, we went for mid-term holidays. He never came back. We were sitted around the table when it was announced that he had died from a road accident.

I burst out into hysterical laughter. I got dirty looks but it was totally worth it. He was dead. I never got my 2 years worth of breakfast back, but he was dead. I never felt a hint of sympathy for him. I was genuinely happy.

See, I sat with a person on the same table for 2 years. He died. I laughed and was happy.
I also shed a tear and went vegan when I watched a chicken that had possibly pecked the shit out of me earlier.

I am a bitch and an asshole at the same time.

Ps. What am I even saying?
Brilliant read!
 
#12
Dinosaurs had feathers. They looked nothing like the ones in the movies and books. That's what a new science report says. Chickens are descended from dinosaurs. They are related. Think Tynosaraus X and its viciousness then think chicken attacking bugs. You see? They are totally related.


I don't like Chicken. The food that is, I don't mean the bird, I like the birds just fine. Giving it a second thought, I do like Chicken; roasted or deep fried chicken. Dry chicken. I can't stand wet chicken. If a chicken meal has soup in it, I completely loose my appetite because the smell reminds me of live chickens and events I would rather forget.

When I was really young, my mother reared chicken. A sizable amount, about 20 of 'em in our little home enclosing.

We got along just fine, me and the chickens. Most of the time that is. Then they would hatch their eggs and our friendship would come to an end. They would bully the shit out of me. They gave me a beating (a pecking?) every moment they could steal. Mother hens are overprotective assholes. I would try to help out the little chicks and the mother would attack me! The nerve!

You know what the catch is? You can't attack back. No revenge for you. If you hit a chicken back, no matter how hard it had hit you, it might just die. They are weak buggers, those animals. So when it attacks, you just take the beating like a man. Or in my case, like a little bitch. I cried a lot during those dark times while my mother watched and laughed her ass off. Twas dark and evil times those.

My mother brought a new chicken home one day. She put it in the enclosing and closed the door and left. The other chickens attacked it immediately. I yelled at them but they wouldn't stop. I pelted stones at them through the small openings. They wouldn't stop. They stripped the feathers off that chicken's head. Then they stripped off its skin. Its skull burst open and out came a whitish goo:brains. By the time my mother came back, the chicken was already dead. I watched it, petrified, unable to say a word. Shook.

And that is how I stopped eating chicken. I would try to eat chicken and the image of that one chicken lying down, its head skin bare, its skull open and its life slowly ebbing away would pop in my head. I know, I know, I am a little bitch. I got PTSD from watching a new chicken die!

Those old asshole chickens. There is joy in watching a chicken grow from a small chick to a full adult Cockerel whose time is best spent terrorizing small hens. I watched so many chicks grow up. I would spend hours prying away the cockerels from the hens as I thought they were hurting the sweet little hens. No one ever corrected me because I think no one dare tell a child that chickens reproduce by rape.

Some day later, my mother got hold of the cock that I had had so much fun chasing after that morning. She proceeded to hold it by its neck and cut the neck off while the cockerel quacked in pain and watched me with its beady eyes, begging for help and mercy. There lay my long life friend. A bird that I had watched grow from chick to huge cockerel. It thought me a traitor as it died. And that's how I became a chicken vegetarian. How could I eat the meat of a relative of a friend that I had betrayed? No.


High school. We were served food according to tables. Once you were assigned a table, you would eat from it for 2 years or so before being reassigned to another Table.

I was in form 2. This form 3 boy saw an opportunity to bully me. You see, I am really non-confrontational. I just watch and never really say anything while being mistreated. I just take it all like a man should. I don't like drama. I would rather suck it up.

So, this boy got into the habit of eating my servings. I would walk into the dining hall and find my breakfast gone. He would be holding two servings. If I asked him where my breakfast was, he would look me in the eye and tell me that he had gotten the extra breakfast from the other table. I would then walk out of the dining hall and go sit in class. Eventually, I stopped taking breakfast and my serving was truly his. He ate my breakfast for 2 years.

Some months before he did KCSE, we went for mid-term holidays. He never came back. We were sitted around the table when it was announced that he had died from a road accident.

I burst out into hysterical laughter. I got dirty looks but it was totally worth it. He was dead. I never got my 2 years worth of breakfast back, but he was dead. I never felt a hint of sympathy for him. I was genuinely happy.

See, I sat with a person on the same table for 2 years. He died. I laughed and was happy.
I also shed a tear and went vegan when I watched a chicken that had possibly pecked the shit out of me earlier.

I am a bitch and an asshole at the same time.

Ps. What am I even saying?
Bril' piece. One of the best writeups I have ever read on KT.
 

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