Lies

I'm out again. Adventure number 26, I believe. Yes, I am calling my outings adventures now. The last few times, I've discovered a few playgrounds, collected a few bottle caps, and bought a few packets of gum at the gas station. My adventures.

I look out the window to admire this morning's heavy coat of dreary rain. And thunder.

I leave the room quickly and then the building. I hear a woman scream. She runs towards me. "CHICKENS!" She runs past me up the apartment stairs. The crazy people in this town...

Suddenly, a giant flapping crowd of chickens scatter onto the road. They shriek and babble to one another in excitement. Their feathers soak in the giant drops of rain falling from the grey sky. A few of the chickens waddle helplessly towards the bowling alley. Others go in the opposite direction towards the sketchy Royal Motel. I stand in awe at the sight. Dozens of chaotic chickens cover Katz Avenue painting it a whitish gold. The residents of Wilshire Tower all stare, gawking at the sight. The women scream in fright. The children question their mommies in confusion. The old men overlook the sight as if it's some sort of daily occurrence in their lives.

I look around to see where the fluttering mass came from. A giant chicken coop truck is parked in front of the butcher shop. The gate in the back is open.

I go to the open truck to inspect. Inside, I see a little feathered ball still inside. A little chicken is sleeping soundly in one of the cages. He must have missed the cue of escape. I reach into his cubicle and try to pick him up. He wakes up with a jerk and warns me with the span of his soft white wings. I try again, resisting his struggling fight against me. As he flaps around crazily, I place him on the ground.

This little chicken balls up again. "What's the matter, little chicken? Why don't you go?" I ask him.

"HEY YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" A man shouts at me. He must be the chicken truck driver.
"What? Me? Nothing," I say quickly, stupidly.
"Did you open this?!" he shouts.
"No," I say like a baby.
"Mhm. Then why did I see you taking this chicken out of my truck?"
"It wasn't me," I lie.
"I saw you, little girl!" he shouts again.
"I mean, I didn't open it."
He gets really close to my face, so close I can feel his nasty breath stifling the air from reaching my nose. He says, "You know, little girls who lie go to hell."

I stamp on his foot with all my might. He bends over in pain to reach his foot, his face red and explosive. I run back to my apartment so quickly that I hardly remember my feet hitting the ground at all. "Get her!" the man yelled angrily when I stomped on his foot. I still hear him yelling in my head.