Page 63 of The Body in the Backyard
“Is there something wrong with that rooster?” Riley asked.
“I’m just saying, I was stunned by beak and feathers. I would have handled it myself,” Nick insisted to Gabe.
“Of course. You have the reflexes of a panther,” Gabe said. There wasn’t a hint of smugness on his handsome face when he released the chicken from his grasp.
It immediately flew at Nick’s face again. “Goddamn it,” he yelled, swinging wildly as the chicken flopped around his head and shoulders.
“Aww! I think KFC likes you,” Blossom said. “Your father named her.”
Nick ducked behind Riley’s mother, and Blossom gently captured the flapping fowl, cradling it in her arms like a newborn.
“Ursula the sea witch and poultry. Who knew?” Riley said. It was kind of nice seeing her usually cocky, fearless boyfriend show a little bit of vulnerability…even if it was over a small, feathered barnyard animal.
“Who the fuck throws a chicken?” Nick groused.
“Once again, I did not throw the chicken. I merely released it. I cannot help that it finds your face peckable or that your reflexes are slow and full of panic,” Gabe insisted.
Nick spit a feather out of his mouth. “I’m not panicked. You’re panicked.”
“Coo coo ca-cha,” the rooster said.
“Aren’t roosters supposed to crow?” Riley asked.
“Mr. Feathers fell off a truck on the highway. I think he might have a tiny little traumatic brain injury,” Blossom explained. She lifted the chicken in her hands, and Nick nervously dodged out of the way. “The one playing with Daisy is Summer Solstice. Those two are Toni Morrison and Yolanda,” she said pointing at the two birds on the swing set.
Upon hearing her name, Yolanda hurled herself to the ground in front of Burt in a feathery, clucky flutter. Burt let out a nervous whimper. Toni Morrison landed next to her bird sister with a cackle that had the dog slinking backward. The chickens advanced on him with a dead-eyed agenda of mayhem.
“Burt, come here before you get your eyes pecked out,” Nick called.
The lion-size dog gave his humans and the safety of the deck the side-eye. Riley could practically hear him calculating whether he could make it.
“Come on, buddy,” she encouraged, slapping her hands to her thighs.
Burt backed toward them one paw at a time, not taking his eyes off the potential enemy. But it was all for naught. Without warning, both birds pounced. Burt yelped. Feathers flew. Chickens squawked. And suddenly they were off, Burt in the lead, galloping around the yard, ducking under Daisy’s belly as the chickens gave chase.
The chicken in Blossom’s arms flopped to the ground and joined in. “Aren’t they just the cutest things?” Blossom said to no one in particular.
Daisy let out a plaintive moo as the chicken strutted up her back, pecking as it went.
Roger charged out onto the deck. “See?” he said, gesturing wildly at his beloved cow. “They’re torturing my sweet Daisy. I told you she wouldn’t like ’em.”
“They’re just getting used to each other,” Blossom insisted, watching her new feathery progeny with maternal delight. “You know, I was watching homesteading videos on the YouTube, and some people let their chickens in the house.”
Roger stomped off the deck to shoo the chicken away from Daisy. “No freaking way, Bloss. If Daisy can’t come inside to watch football with me, your demon brood ain’t allowed to crap all over the carpet.”
“It smellslike Burt’s cabbage aftermath in here,” Nick observed as they returned to the kitchen, leaving Riley’s parents outside to argue. The emotionally scarred Burt belly-crawled under the table and whimpered until Janet deigned to join him and pick the feathers of his enemies from his fur.
“I see you met KFC,” Wander observed. The girls were all drawing at the table now. River had added several pairs of stick figure legs to Nick’s drawing.
“Nick was ruthlessly attacked and barely survived,” Gabe said. “I, however, did not receive injury.”
“He threw a chicken at me,” Nick complained.
Riley dampened a fresh hand towel and pressed it to the trio of scratches on Nick’s face. “Poor baby.”
“Am I gonna end up with bird rabies or something?” he asked.
“Probably,” she teased. “Let’s go bandage you up.” She ushered him into the tiny powder room crammed under the stairs and opened the vanity.
