The chicken story

All of you chicken lovers, please don't hate me when I tell you this story.

We used to raise our own chickens. We would get 100 baby chicks, raise them. And eventually they would become our food chain. I always felt like a murderer when having to cut their heads off. I knew that there must be a more humane way of getting them to my table. One day while agonizing what I could do to make it less painful for the chicken, I came up with a perfect solution. I would drown the chicken in hot water, then it would be fast and painless. Right? My mind does not always think in rational terms. The heart dictates the mind.

I boiled some water, hurried and put the chicken,s head down in. But to my horror, she flapped her wings, struggled and flew out of my hands. I was doing this on my front lawn. I looked at the poor chicken, her head and neck were three times the size they should have been and redder than a beet.

I realized how foolish I had been. I was in tears as I chased that poor chicken all around the yard. Finally I caught it, knowing I had to put her out of her misery.

That was the worst thing I had ever done ,and I felt horrible. just as I picked up the chicken, the chicken man drove up. He was my Bishop in our church. And we had bought the chickens from him. I shoved that chicken under some newspapers as fast as I could. I couldn't let the Bishop know what I had done. I don't know if he saw the poor chicken, but as soon as he ,left the chicken got a respectful funeral.

My children have never let me forget the chicken story. Even though I have tried to.
I apologized to the chicken family, to my children,and to God ,but not the chicken man, our Bishop. So I'm confessing now ,please forgive me for my cruelty to that poor chicken. When I meet my maker I'm sure that chicken will be right by his side, saying see! thats the person that did that to me. My fate will probably be tending the chickens for time and all Eternity.

I can't eat chicken to this day without feeling guilty. I have repented. We don't even raise chickens anymore. I get them from the grocery store. Already to cook.

Please don't report me to the Humane Society. That was 28 years ago. And I am a
kind, compassionate person.

Keep smiling, Charlene.

P.s Please don't think I am a complete basket case. I do take Prozac, but I am harmless.