This Chicken is very tired - was away for an assignment, sent to a coop with no (expensive) Internet connection and stupid cold weather, weather so cold no other tropical-lover chicken should endure.
Came back with empty pockets, flaky skin, hungry for petai stomach and one story sent to the Farmer. The only cool thing brought back was images of topless muchachas and g-string clad hunks on Bondi Beach.
Came back to a homeland where the "Parlimen sudah dibubarkan", a new RM50 bill launched and circulating and gasp! another Chicken flying away from the coop! Guess which event was more dramatic for This Chicken?
A loss of a chicken in the coop means no more deskmate to gossip with, more eggs to lay and alone facing the stupid, so-called bigger room for improvement! !#$%^&*!
This Chicken knows it's the bigger room for improvement that will eventually make her snap. But it is only for the best when Chickens fly off this coop.
Will it be This Chicken's turn to spread her wings and fly? Between Mariah Carey's Butterfly and R. Kelly's I Believe I Can Fly This Chicken is not thinking much about flying just yet, cause This Chicken is a little tired, a little sick, and a little sick and tired of it all.
This Chicken is going to lunch early.
"Goin hermitty!" - said Siti Rosman while she was swept away to Outuland. She is currently residing in Pastensu, all happy and nice there, and she's no longer askin' "Why am I here?".
Monday, February 18, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
A quarter of a dozen chickies out of the hen coop
Yep. Tis happenning, ladies and gentlemen. Names given in secret. Heads rolled. Tears, what tears? Chickens don't cry!
Three chickies got to say goodbye to the old coop. The Farmer had nominated them out but the chickies only found out when they met up with Big Big Farmer and checked:
"Sir, is my head on the chopping board?" and Big Big Farmer took a peek at the list earlier given to him and said, "Yes my dear chickychacha, you're going to the slaughter house."
"Which slaughter house will I end up in?" asked the Chickies again, undaunted by the weird term of endearment nor the vague future; as darkness is after all already engulfing the current coop they're in.
"Oh, don't think as if you're being victimised here. Take this as a new challenge. Erm.. (covers mouth as his nervousness strikes) you're going to slaughter house X."
The Big Big Farmer will soon realise that as he tells the booted out Chickychachas where their new frontier lies, he is actually being reduced to doing the Farmer's dirty work.
Yes, the Farmer is a scaredy cat who can't do the dirty work he's been assigned to do. Funny eh, we're the Chickens here with our yellow bulus but Farmer's the one chickening out and being yellow at heart.. Wakakaka!
The rest of the Chickies in the coop is not too happy about having induced to stay just cause they know how to lay eggs and write blogs at the same time. This Chicken, at least, want out cause the slaughter house means death in this coop and rebirth in a new coop.
Oh no, nirvana for This Chicken yet. (And no receptionist job in hand either, so have to stay put till then.)
Yet This Chicken wonders if pushing it for a go at the slaughter house would be a better idea than keeping quiet and staying?
As staying means having to work in a room that is always left for bigger improvements to happen.
Staying means having to lay eggs on a path that is left for the Farmer and Big Big Farmer to destroy at whim (apparently the next whim will happen after the next election).
And staying means eating fart on the ground even when you fart 'em out a dozen of Grade A, kolesterol rendah eggs every week.
Sigh.
This Chicken - you may call me Duck, names doesn't matter anymore - is going shopping at 3.30PM.
Three chickies got to say goodbye to the old coop. The Farmer had nominated them out but the chickies only found out when they met up with Big Big Farmer and checked:
"Sir, is my head on the chopping board?" and Big Big Farmer took a peek at the list earlier given to him and said, "Yes my dear chickychacha, you're going to the slaughter house."
"Which slaughter house will I end up in?" asked the Chickies again, undaunted by the weird term of endearment nor the vague future; as darkness is after all already engulfing the current coop they're in.
"Oh, don't think as if you're being victimised here. Take this as a new challenge. Erm.. (covers mouth as his nervousness strikes) you're going to slaughter house X."
The Big Big Farmer will soon realise that as he tells the booted out Chickychachas where their new frontier lies, he is actually being reduced to doing the Farmer's dirty work.
Yes, the Farmer is a scaredy cat who can't do the dirty work he's been assigned to do. Funny eh, we're the Chickens here with our yellow bulus but Farmer's the one chickening out and being yellow at heart.. Wakakaka!
The rest of the Chickies in the coop is not too happy about having induced to stay just cause they know how to lay eggs and write blogs at the same time. This Chicken, at least, want out cause the slaughter house means death in this coop and rebirth in a new coop.
Oh no, nirvana for This Chicken yet. (And no receptionist job in hand either, so have to stay put till then.)
Yet This Chicken wonders if pushing it for a go at the slaughter house would be a better idea than keeping quiet and staying?
As staying means having to work in a room that is always left for bigger improvements to happen.
Staying means having to lay eggs on a path that is left for the Farmer and Big Big Farmer to destroy at whim (apparently the next whim will happen after the next election).
And staying means eating fart on the ground even when you fart 'em out a dozen of Grade A, kolesterol rendah eggs every week.
Sigh.
This Chicken - you may call me Duck, names doesn't matter anymore - is going shopping at 3.30PM.
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