Never Use A Chicken And Other Stories - Plot & Excerpts
Lemme tell ya somethin’. If ya ever plan on doin’ a robbery, don’ never, ever plan on usin’ a chicken as the weapon. Ain’t worth the trouble, and that’s fer damn sure. A month or so ago, I was sitting on the bench outside of my house and my friend Arky was there. His real name’s Arthur, but we always call him Arky. He somehow doesn’t fit “Arthur,” but he fits “Arky” just fine. Arky was drinking a beer, and I was sittin’ thinking. All of a sudden I got an idea. I jumped up and called back over my shoulder to Arky (He wasn’t the fastest man in the world to move, you know.) “C’mon, Arky, we’re going to town.” On the way to get my old ’72 pick-up, I stopped by the chicken house and grabbed the first chicken I came to. When I got to the truck I stuffed the chicken into an old burlap sack lying on the floor, one I keep to wipe grease off my hands after I been working on the truck. The chicken din’t like being in the sack, but that was just too bad. I handed the sack and the chicken to Arky.
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