Friday, November 4, 2011

Big Chickie-poo Speaks About Death

Anybody out there scared of dying?  I'm not.  Not anymore.  I used to be scared of dying, but now I think that it's just one more place to go, and I'm guessing that the IRS is already there anyway, waiting for me to cross through the pearly gates of hell so that they can tax my entry.  I wonder if I'll be considered a resident that first year, or if I'll have to pay out-of-state tuition if I want to go to school there.  Actually, that is pretty scary.
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2 comments:

  1. TrixieNovember 9, 2011 at 11:51 AM

    Dear zBigChicken,

    Long time reader, first time commenter here. I'm a young (dare I say nubile) woman looking for a guy who likes to dress up as a chicken. I'm also looking for somebody who is very much into themselves. Do you know where I can find somebody matching this description? I really want to "shake a tail feather" if you know what I mean. I'm not exactly sure what I mean, so if you could tell me, that would be great. Anyway, studly chicken guy. Oh, and it can't be you.

    Thanks!
    Chicken lover Trixie!

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  2. zbigchickenNovember 9, 2011 at 9:51 PM

    Oh, hey, Chicken lover Trixie,

    Whattup, T? Girl, you been reading me, but never talked before now? What is up with that? Don't you know, if you wanna shake it, you gotta fake it? With me, anyway.

    So, uhhhhmmmmm, hey.....listen, I know a guy. He looks a LOT like me, and I know that's poor grammar and all, but I figure, sweet Trix, that you are not gonna care about that. So, ah, as I was saying, he looks like I do, and he sounds like I do, and he smells a lot like I do (which is quite a turn-on, if you ask my ex-girlfriend's sister, 'cause she really liked it) but, uh, he's not me. I mean, I'm not him. So, I can introduce you to him, if you'd like. Except, I can't be there when you meet him. Or, I could. I could be there. I would just need to um, step out of the room to go get him, and then he could meet you for a while, and then you guys could make out or something, and then he could come get me, because I would be somewhere else (I would not be dressed up in my brother's spectacles just PRETENDING to be this other chicken-skater that I'm telling you about, because that would be wrong. Awfully, horribly, dreadfully, wrong. Also, I love you, so I could never do that to you.*


    *twice

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