Easy pickings for them chickens
Last week, as I was smugly heading to sleep in my epidemic-free zone, my front door was kicked down by a terrorist chicken armed with an AK-47.
In a hail of bullets, I was shot in the left knee and crippled for three days. Since I was already filling out my application form for official status under the new Disabilities Act, I became doubly disabled. Delayed treatment at the Spanish Town triage left me wracked with fever, in which state I drifted off into a fitful sleep asking myself, "Why me?"
In my dreams, several VIPs came to visit, each offering unique perspectives on my all-important question.
Prime Minister Portia Simpson Miller: You're anti-PNP. The PNP love the poor, so we tek more money from more people and use it for less. So more people now eat chicken back than ever before. In PNP country, chicken rule.
Opposition Leader, Young Andrew Holness: I understand your angst and frustration, but I can't help. I must take every available position on every issue so I won't lose ground in Bill Johnson's polls. I don't approve of terrorism but I support chickens.
Minister of Transport Omar Davies: We need cash to 'run wid it' or lose the next election. There's no money to prevent chicken gunmen. If more money mus' spend on electioneering, less mus' spend elsewhere. That's numeracy.
Opposition Spokesman Karl Samuda: What Andrew sey? Me want to sey de opposite? What yu sey? Him tek every position? Rahtid. A me him a try mess wid yu know. Well, me sey de opposite anyway.
Ian 'Booklist' Boyne: You beg for this because you won't read. If you'd read scholarly articles like 'A fatal case of encephalitis associated with chikungunya virus infection' by Stefania Casolari, Elisabetta Briganti, Miriam Zanotti, Tiziano Zauli, Loredana Nicoletti, Fabio Magurano, Claudia Fortuna, Cristiano Fiorentini, Maria Grazia Ciufolini, and Giovanni Rezza, published in the 2008 edition of the Scandinavian Journal of Infectious Diseases (Volume 40), you wouldn't leave yourself so careless.
Me at fault
Orville Higgins: Look, man, a bramble you a talk. No chicken never shoot you just so. Everybody know sey chicken sleep at night, so it stands to reason is you interfere with de chicken and him just defend himself.
One night Farmer Brown was takin' the air;
locked up the barnyard with the greatest of care.
Down in the hen house, somethin' stirred.
When he shouted, 'Who's there?'
this is what he heard:
'There ain't nobody here but us chickens.
There ain't nobody here at all.
So calm yourself and stop that fuss.
There ain't nobody here but us.
We chickens tryin' to sleep and you butt in
and hobble, hobble hobble hobble with your chin'
Deacon Peter Espeut: Church dogma provides we must respect life in all its forms from conception and forever more. So I can't support any chicken gunman shooting at anybody, no matter how misguided the target. All life is sacred. Bwoy, dis barbecue chicken nice. Pass me another piece.
Saint Shirley Richards: I've no doubt you must've threatened to have unnatural sex with that chicken. Remember, our Constitution protects only some-sex couples. You can't have sex with any and anybody, and that chicken had every right to defend itself.
You're stompin' around and shakin' the ground
You're kickin' up an awful dust.
We chickens tryin' to sleep and you butt in
and hobble, hobble hobble hobble, it's a sin
No good response
Minister of Health Fenton Ferguson: I can't answer that question by myself. I'm just the minister. I must speak to the prime minister. When she tells me what I can say, I'll say it. Watch for it.
At that point, I woke up in a cold sweat with Louis Jordan's 1946 version of the Alex Kramer and Joan Whitney-written Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens playing in my head. The fever had broken, but Jordan's distinctive alto sax was as perfect as ever.
So quiet yourself and stop that fuss
There ain't nobody here but us
And kindly point that gun the other way
and hobble, hobble hobble off and hit the hay'
'Hey, hey, boss man, what do ya say?'
It's easy pickings
Ain't nobody here but us chickens
The terrorist chicken's rampage created four casualties at home. Only The Computer Whiz (a germophobe who washes his hands 1,000 times per day) was left standing. I promised myself I'd not antagonise any chickens ever again. I immediately called and ordered a meat lovers' pizza. Yum-yum.
Peace and love.
Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to firstname.lastname@example.org.