It’s a big chicken. Brown. Thrusting its head and clucking as it makes its way to us.
“Have you ever seen a chicken fly?” I ask.
She tips her head back and laughs, and the chicken tilts its head at us, then gives a loudbagock!
“Maybe it swam,” she amends.
“Have you ever seen a chicken swim?”
She giggles, pauses like she’s thinking about it, and giggles harder.
“I think I have to report this chicken,” I tell her. “Where there are chickens, there could be roosters, and contrary to popular belief, roosters do not restrict their crowing to mornings.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been in nearly a hundred Razzle Dazzle films. I’ve learned more than you can imagine about more things than you’d even think exist in the world.”
“I don’t remember seeing you in a movie with a rooster.”
“They killed production after the rooster attacked one of the assistant directors.”
Can’t deny how much I enjoy listening to her full belly laugh.
It’s worth dealing with how mad my family will be when I finally head back home.
“I want chickens,” Emma says.
“For dinner?”
“No. As pets.”
“Chickens as pets?”
“I mean, I want to get a chicken coop and raise chickens and have fresh eggs. I want chickens.”
“You can probably have this one.”
“I am not taking a Fijian chicken home.” She tips her head back and laughs again. “Can you imagine the nightmare in customs?Ma’am, we’re going to have to look in your suitcase to find out why it’s clucking.”
“They see clucking suitcases all the time.”
“They do not.”
“Bet they do. Look. It’s a cute chicken. It would be a great starter chicken for you.”
It is kinda cute. I’m not making that up.
It’s also circling us like it can’t decide if it wants to attack or make friends.
“Chicky-chicky want dessert?” I ask it.
“Oh, that’s mean,” Emma says. “Don’t feed her if you’re going to report her. She’ll think you’re friends. And friends shouldn’t betray friends.”
Ah, hell.
There we go again.
Her smile dips away and the clouds come back in her eyes.
