A lifetime of laughter could have saved them all
In the market a chicken, heavily unfeathered, sat on its perch watching the very few people go by.
It was not a riveting occupation.
Gradually those it sat amongst became fewer in number, depleting as gradually as an elephant loses it’s toenails.
Our hero remained. It yawned a long uninterested yawn. This day was long. Longer than it takes a caiman to die once trapped by otters.
The chicken is unaware of otters.
The sun transversed the sky with all the urgency of an hour hand moving around a clock. Well, about half that speed.
Lazily, like an eel catching a lift on the gulf stream, the chicken used it’s beak to pluck out a few more of it’s own feathers.
The further denuded bird was thus of consistently less interest to prospective fowl purchasers. The day wound slowly, so slowly, down.
Eventually the last customer, a large handsome pig up on it’s hind legs and sporting a captain’s cap worn at the jauntiest of jaunty angles, picked up the chicken for a song.
Thus it was that the bald bored chicken was taken on board by the boar and found itself over-bald, over-bored, over-board and over-boar-ed.