Now, I’m not sure how many of you have ever walked the streets of a major city carrying a rubber, chicken, but for some reason, people seem to stare at you while you do. And all my poor chicken Bob wanted to do was see the sights! It also makes people talk to you, something that doesn’t happen a lot here.
First he (my chicken is a boy, he’s a little confused as to why he’s a chicken) got a gander at the Washington Monument on his walk to work. He wasn’t that impressed with the size, but I explained to him that it’s much bigger than it appears.
My chicken was utterly unimpressed with my cube, which may be the crappiest one in the office since I was last hired in my group, so he took off and wandered the building. Bob found himself at a podium and tried to give a speech, but unfortunately government minions don’t seem to understand “chicken.”
Freaking A! The Department of Justice. I acted nonchalantly for Bob’s sake, and told the Justice Agents who guard the building that Bob and I were on a scavenger hunt. They nodded and understood when I told them the prize was wine, or maybe they just like my new hairdo….
And the worst of all, the IRS!
Bob was ready to run now, so we skeedadled out of there as fast as we could, but Bob got distracted by this engraving on the front of the National Archives. Hey, who can blame him? He’s a chicken, and it did have the word seed in it. And harvest, bonus! But we were far enough away (in Bob’s mind anyway) from the really scary government agencies, so he mellowed out .
All in all, it was a long tiring day for Bob, and he was happy to get home and go back to roosting in my kitchen chandelier, where he’s been chilling since his long journey from Twisted Oak to my house.