Chicken Run

October 1, 2018


Photo courtesy of StockPhotos under Creative Commons License

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How did my life get to here? This morning I was getting ready to be the best man at the wedding of my life-long friend, Ryan,  and now I’m running from the cops in a chicken costume.

I guess it all started yesterday at the rehearsal dinner for the wedding. I had run into an old friend from grade school on my way there and we hit it off.

“Excuse me, are you Sally? Sally Jenkins? From Parkway Middle School? I’m-”

“Richard Beanbottom! Oh my God, how long has it been?” Sally was wearing a wide smile as she spoke.

“It is so great to see you again!” I said, returning the look.

I wish I had never seen her again, I thought.

After catching up, I mentioned to Sally that I was going to Ryan’s wedding and still needed a plus-one. Ugh! Why did I have to go and do that?

“Sounds great. How about we meet beforehand for lunch and then head over?” she said.

“Sure thing, Sally,” I said with a grimace.

If only I knew.

After Sally and I said goodbye, I headed over to the church where the wedding was being held.

“Richard! Hey man!” Ryan called out to me as I walked into the church.

“Hey– I’ve got the chopper waiting to fly you out of here,” I sneered to him with a grin.

“Haha, very funny. But seriously, though,” Ryan said as he rummaged through his pocked and pulled out a black box. “You’re supposed to hold onto these.”

I took the box from him. “Isn’t the ring bearer supposed to hold onto these?”

Ryan let out a gasp of laughter. “Yeah, I’m gonna let an eight-year-old have those rings. Besides, Janice’s cousin caught the flu. Thank God for anti-vaxxers, right?”

I gave Ryan a judging look. “And you’re not being forced to marry into that family?”

Ryan pushed my shoulder jokingly. “Shove off, Richard.”

We talked for a while after that and the rest of the rehearsal went well. The trouble would really start on a date later with that no-good Sally Jenkins. The date started innocently enough, but then Sally got forward. Why did I have to fall for her wiles?

“So, Richard, what do you say to a little excursion from this chicken restaurant?” Sally’s gaze drifted over to the bathroom.

“Oh, you’re crazy!” I whispered to her. Slowly, the two of us made our way across the now-deserted chicken restaurant. I looked over to Sally, trying not to show my nervousness. She made her way into the bathroom stall. “Alright, take off your clothes.”

I was shocked by her directness, but still, I complied. How I wish I hadn’t.

“Alright, now close your eyes,” Sally whispered to me. Still eager and naive, I did so. And then I waited. About ten seconds went by until I heard the door slam shut. I open my eyes, dreading the outcome.

Sally was gone. So were my clothes, and the rings with them.

My breathing became erratic. I had lost the rings for Ryan’s wedding. I heard the door open again. “Sally is that you?” I called out in desperation. A husky but friendly voice responded, “Ah sorry, buddy, only Sally I know is my Aunt Sally and if she’s here then I have more issues than getting out of this chicken suit.” He let out a full-belly chuckle.

“Haha, no, different Sally,” I said nervously as I waited for him to get into the stall. I listened intently to the zipper.

“You know, this suit gets so hot!” he said. “They should’ve put free sauna trips for work benefits!” He let out more laughter. “That’s a little joke.” From under the stall, I saw the bright yellow suit fall to the man’s feet, and I took it.

“Hey, what you doing? Plucking my feathers?” More laughter ensued as I hurriedly put the moist chicken suit over my legs.

“Seriously, though, buddy, I’m gonna need that suit back. The last guy who lost it got pretty scrambled.” I heard the man chuckle nervously all the way until I was out the door. As the door shut and I zipped up the suit to the top, I could hear him say, “Hm, guess I’m not getting over easy.”

Looking through the eyes of a chicken, I could see Sally pulling out of the parking lot in her Prius. I went out on a sprint, desperate to get the rings back for Ryan. As I came closer to her Prius, I did the only thing that I knew would stop her: I dove onto the hood.

“Ahhh!” Sally shrieked and slammed on the brakes.

“There’s a ring in my pants pocket! I need it!” I yelled back at her through the windshield.

“Richard! What the hell?” Sally had a horrified confusion on her face.

“Give me those rings” I yelled back now banging on the windshield. Sally reached into her back seat and pulled out my pants. But as she started to roll down her window to give them to me, I heard him.

“Hey, Chicken Little! Stop in the name of the law!” To the right of me was a police office, running towards me with his baton out. What a great day for me. I snatched the ring out of Sally’s hand…

…which brings me back to the chicken run I now find myself on.

Steadily, the cop gains on me, but I only have two more blocks until I make it to the church. I glance back, only to see the cop in a full sprint like he’s Usain Bolt. Who is this guy? Meanwhile, I’m gasping for breath as the sweat from the previous guy drowns my feet. There it is, the church. I’m nearly there, and the cop is nearly on me. I’m clucked. The doors to the church stand closed as I run into them, bursting open, just as the cop tackles me to the ground, right in the middle of the ceremony.

“Ha, guess you’re a chicken, not a chicken haw–” The cop’s voice trails off as he realizes where he is.

“Ryan, I’ve got the ring!” I wheeze out from my exhausted lungs.

“Richard, why are you in a chicken suit?” Ryan yells, visibly confused. Everyone looks back and forth between our conversation. The cop looks around at the group, “Uh, do you know Mr. Foghorn Leghorn here?”

“Uh, yes officer, he’s my best man.” Ryan calls back.

“And officer, I was trying to get the rings back from that woman to get them here,” I explain to the officer who is still on top of me.

“Well, this is highly unorthodox, I guess, but I could let you stay here for the ceremony, then take you downtown for processing,” says the officer. Ryan and I respond simultaneously, “Yes, thank you!”

As I take my place next to Ryan, still in my chicken suit, he whispers, “Well, at least the sky isn’t falling.”

About the Writer
Photo of Ethan Vernatter
Ethan Vernatter, FCHS Journalist

Ethan is a senior and a first time Journalism student. He is an FCHS wrestler and enjoys spending time with friends and playing video games. He is also...

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