Cutey Pie Roasts Man

I keep falling asleep and having the strangest dreams. There’s something about being a little chick in your big hands . . . that must be the reason.

This time I had a dream that I was a human woman. Naturally I was in a yellow dress, pretty much the color of my natural feathers, but of course not as fluffy or as alluring! My face was rather peaked and chicken-like, but that may have been because sitting directly across from me was my natural enemy (at least as a chick!) – a dog. His teeth were hanging out and he was panting. I had a sense he wanted to eat something.

But it wasn’t me he wanted to eat. It was the little man. I was doing what – normally – people end up doing to me! I was roasting someone, over a nice wood fire burned down to the hottest of coals.

And I was saying to him: “Why don’t you pop?”

I don’t know why I was saying that. But I do know that he didn’t smell as nice as I do, roasted. But it was just a dream. Maybe in real life he would?

I’m Not Your Church-and-Chicken Dinner Kind of Chick

A lovely nap. Your hands are a little bit rough though. If you want me to nap here any more (with my adorable soft blond chickiness and all) I hope you’ll find some moisturizer. This is something we know about, chicks. It’s all about the moisturizer.

But I had a dreadful nightmare!  I can’t even describe it to you!! Please give me some tiny bits of that baguette over there, with just a touch of Meyer Lemon preserves if you will – while I describe it. Bread, and lemons – they suit me well! Bread, lemons, garlic. All will be part of my final day.

Thank you for your letter and B.J. thanks for the photo. she thinks it is very good me. Marje. B.J. and I went to church together last Sun. We had dinner at this place last week very good. See you soon. Best to all three of you. Fondly, Elizabeth

I need to say one thing to you, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who goes from church to chicken dinner.

Why I’m Afraid by Cutey Pie

Come here. Sit down please and hold out your hands, together in a nice little cup shape. I’d like to jump into them and cuddle while we talk about this.

Yesterday I told you I wanted adventure. I’m not ready for what they have planned for me. I may never be ready. What am I afraid of? Please pat my little head softly while I tell you. There, that’s nice. Have you been handling garlic? Oh how I love the smell on your fingers as they ruffle my feathers! Garlic, is of course part of my destiny.

These images will show you why I am afraid.

I mean, how tacky!!!! I do not want to end up being your fast food. You can label it ‘gourmet’ all you want. I do not believe you.

Now please scratch my little neck, softly. And my wing. Now stay just like that, I need a nap.

On Being A Chick

Hi. I’m a chick. My name is Cutey. Cutey Pie, to be exact. And as it says above, I am the Poultryman’s Pride and Profit.

Note my adorable blondness. My softness. How tiny I am! And please . . . you may not really understand this but my feet are totally perfect.

What you might not know about me is that someday I am destined to be soup. Or a roast. Or any number of other things. But right now it’s all about being simply cuddly and slightly nonsensical.

If you look a bit closer though, you might see that my eye is strong and glittering. My eye is sharp and intelligent. My eye is aimed outwards towards the world and even though I am planned by the Poultrymen for high egg production, it just may be I have other plans. Could be I’m headed for an adventure. How will I do that? Just a chick like me?

My adventure will rely on my cuteness, of course. But it’s better than nothing since I’m destined to end up as Pot Pie in a few years.  There’s always something to be done in the world, somewhere to go, challenges to chirp upon! Tomorrow, I start.