As for all you blogger-naggers out there, don't complain, I've been a little busy, sheesh...
Onto the post:
My loving father called me the other day wanting to know if I wanted any of the chicken that was, um, harvested. Heck yeah! I told him right away.
He said I could even have it for free. Okay, I said a little more haltingly, thinking there must be a catch.
He said I could have as much as I wanted--I just had to come down and get it. Hmm. My suspicions were increasing with every statement.
Here it was: I only had to come down and help break their necks, pull off all their feathers, and then clean their guts out. That's it. The grand stipulation.
Oh. I thought they had already done that? Well, it turns out that there were a few chickens left--as in thirty--that they hadn't quite gotten to yet. I thought about this. Could I really do this? I mean, my great-grandmothers did this practically on a daily basis for their dinner. I wasn't really a pure-bred 21st century girl was I? Maybe if I wore long latex gloves and a face mask and closed my eyes it wouldn't be so bad. Besides, it would just be a few hours of pure torture for ten organic, hormone free, preservative free, fresh chicken. For Free.
I would do it. I wouldn't kill them, but I could clean them out. (Remember, Cheapskates go above and beyond.)
Dad called me back a few hours later. I wouldn't need to come down after all. The chickens were already headed to a local butcher where he would do all the dirty work and present a store-worthy packaged chicken for the fee of $3 a chicken.
Well, great!! That's a bargain, if you ask me!!!
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