So. I got a Rooster.

The BEST kind of rooster. He doesn’t crow at dawn and he doesn’t poop or require me to feed him and I don’t have to worry about him getting all Alpha rooster on me and puffing up his chest and chasing me around the yard until I can find a stick to throw at him which is something that might have happened to me once before with a real rooster because that specific rooster tried to attack my dog. He just sits there and looks cute. Wanna see?

Of course you do:

 This guy is awesome. He’s colorful and he’ll cut you. Like a poisonous flower. And he’s by the bed, so if you try to sneak up on me, I’ll shank you with a rooster. Consider yourself warned. Oh, his name, you ask? I haven’t decided. oh. ok. Ralph. I just decided. Ralph the Rooster. Heck yeah. ‘Sup Ralph? Harold’s across the room from you, so ya’ll can talk about bird things while I’m gone, neither of you have a lot of flying ability so there shouldn’t be any jealousy going on. Harold IS bigger than you, but it’s ok, you have shankability. Please don’t use it though, I don’t want metal bird guts on my floor.  I think I took that too far and I’m pretty sure I just spoke to my metal birds through a blog that they can’t even get online to read… I need therapy, or to drink less, but why would I want to rob people of the joy of reading the products of my random brain? That would just be cruel.     


Posted on September 2, 2011, in just life, K-STAR and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. “shankability” is my new favorite word.

  2. That’s it. I’m taking the peacock. DO NOT SHANK ME WITH YOUR COCK… er, that really sounded better in my head.

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