Holding a chicken upside down by its legs,
I douse the creature in a batter of flour, eggs, and milk;
the concoction sitting in a silver vat
in the middle of a dilapidated warehouse.

It shakes its wings rather violently.
I grab my axe, decapitate it, and defenestrate it.
The headless chicken is now running all about the outdoors;
the batter dripping with every step it takes.

Maybe it’s searching for its head.
Or maybe it’s looking for feed.
I look at the head in my hand,
and the eye is twitching and the beak is ajar.

The creature stumbles onto a nearby feral cat.
The cat is now coated in the batter.
It hisses ferociously and scratches the bird, finishing it off.
I call my girlfriend to let her know our date is going to have to be postponed.