Tuesday, November 2, 2010

I ate my friend, he was scrumptious.

So a few days ago a chicken was brought to our house, and after some minimal negotiation the chicken was tied to a piece of wood in the hallway. We found ourselves the proud owners of one feathered foul. The deal upon buying Mr. Cluckers, as he was initially called in my mind, was that Matt would pay for it, if’n I ended the long and illustrious life of Mr. C., I agreed. So after we get it, I am in debate as to whether to name it or not, I knew that naming it would cause attachment, but not naming it deprived it of it dignity before death, so I of course named it. First we tried Chester, that didn’t stick, than there was Harrison, General McCluckther, and finally we settled on Gary. Gary I feel is a great name for a delicious chicken. Anywho Gary kicked it in our hallway tied to a piece of wood, and we became friends, until he crowed at 4 in the morning and than shit in my hallway. I tried to explain to Gary that being a good friend did not involve shitting in your friends house. Gary simply clucked back. All the same Gary kicked it in the house for three days. For his final meal I gave him cornflakes, I figure if his cousin endorses them he would like them, and some rice. After that Gary and I went outback to have a chat. Kids came. Gary’s last few moments I imagine went something like this: Damn those cornflakes were good, I sure wish I could get off this rope, o shit that blonde dude has a knife, o shit now some kids is holding my neck out while another one has my feet, this cant be goo…” At that this point I had sliced my way through Gary’s neck. The last thing Gary heard was me saying “well sorry Gary but friends don’t shit in friends hallways.” After we killed ol gary we put him in a pot of hot water, this makes feather plucking easier, and than proceeded to remove the noble Gary’s noble white feathers. Gary was a proud chicken. Than started the actual quatering of the chicken, and dude that is harder than it sounds. Gary clearly had his milk because his bones were strong as shit. Anywho we cut Gary open, the whole time I am doing this I was just thinking man, you used to be a vegetarian, and now look at you. I cut his crop open revealing his last meal, And watched the children fight over who got the feet. They went on to squabble over such delicious parts of the chicken as the skin, the organs, the head, and any other awful looking part of the chicken. God bless Liberia, they don’t waste a fucking thing here. When I said I wasn’t going to eat the neck this kid gave me the most mortified look I have ever seen but than was pleased as a man who just found out he shits gold when I told him he could HAVE the neck. I know, I know, my generosity really shocks me sometime. Anywho the parts of Gary I took up wound up in a delicious pot of pepper soup. Pepper soup is bomb, simply bomb.com.
I had the privilege of watching game 3 of the World Series. I don’t even really watch baseball in America, and I don’t necessarily believe its Americas pass time, I think that goes to NASCAR or perhaps WWF or whatever the fuck wrestling calls itself these days. Baseball is a pussy sport in comparison with those two, and America is not a pussy country so it shouldn’t have a pussy sport for its national pass time. Anywho on our way back in the taxi was moving like a crazed canary down the dirt path. Our driver seemed to think that hitting the bumps at 80 kmph as opposed to 20 kmph would work out better for the alignment of the car. I didn’t bitch we made Kanwekan in 3 hours, that’s literally 4 times faster than some of my other times. I love that I traveled about 70 miles in 3 hours and am super pumped about it. When I get back to America and get a whole car seat to myself in a car that doesn’t smell like roasted monkey flesh and can drive 70 mph without pissing blood, well I don’t know what I will do, probably a jig. Jigs are a gentleman’s way of showing excitement especially when they involve gin.
Other than that my life is pretty much unchanging at the moment. Not a lot happens here, at least not quickly. At time that is super rad, but when you need to get shit done it sucks. Well I am gonna watch people build this building, mixing cement by hand looks fucking hard. At least it is the dry season so it wont rain on those poor fellas, o wait its still fucking raining.
Ah man two fucking flies just landed on me. And that ‘fucking’ there is not just me randomly saying fucking as I love to do, those two flies were doing it on my leg. Ew.

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