Interrupting Chicken Book Novels & Stories

Tell me. Two. I am sending a small package with the next courier. It is a book. You will know what to do with it when you see it. Open it alone. Three. The kitchen head's husband and the assistant cook had a child eight years ago. The kitchen head has known about the affair this whole time. The chicken was a coincidence. I was informed by my mother that the chicken was, in fact, a coincidence. I retract the suggestion that the chicken was a metaphor. The chicken was a chicken.

He's good at cutting. *after 15 minutes* "Why did it burnt immediately?" I asked while looking at what happened to the chicken that had turned black. "How did this happen?" I just held my breath. *After 3 hours* "I'm bac-" Rafaelia couldn't continue what she was saying when she saw what happened in the kitchen. Flour, and broken eggs scattered around. Some are still rolling that have not yet broken. And there are hotdogs in every corner of the kitchen. And especially, the whole chicken in front of us that is coated in flour.

Well, that could wait until tomorrow. I wanted to make a nice dinner for my best friends, seeing that they had been doing all the work. I figured I'd make some hamburgers. Then I settled on roast chicken for dinner. The cookbook said, 'Nuke the chicken in the microwave and forget about it for two hours'. That left me time to make soup. I couldn't wait to see the look on Elise's and Karmen's face when they got home to find a meal fit for a queen waiting for them. I was slicing onions, and weeping deliciously into a paper towel, when the doorbell rang. I looked into the peephole to see the last person on earth I wanted to see -Clarice Kingsley.

"Want to make some dishes I learned from the human world. I'm sure you'll like them." "Let me have a look," she said, grabbing the book from me. Each recipe in the cookbook had a picture of the dish attached to it. But I had learned much of pastries than actual dishes. Sandra stopped when she stumbled upon a page that caught her attention. "What's this?" She asked, pointing at the picture on the page. "Oregano chicken pie," I said. "That's like one of my favourites. I spent money on that thing." "Wow! Let's make it, then! Will it be possible?"

Arthur asked Thomas right away. “Brahma chicken is slightly different from other chicken breeds, and it happened to clash with Mrs. Martin’s body. The irreconcilable conflict became even more obvious after being triggered by chilis, which is why Mrs. Martin felt ill all of a sudden,” Thomas explained. “It’s a good thing that Mrs. Martin came from Astrus City and has great tolerance for spicy foods. If this were a regular person, their face would have been ruined by now.” Was it really that serious?

I would have to cut into some pieces. I took out a knife and placed the chicken on the cutting plate. I took a sharp breath and moved my hand upward as I sliced through the middle of it. But my force was too strong as the other side of the chicken flew away to a direction and fell on the glass. The glass fell on the floor and broke. "What was that?" Geneva asked. "Err... It is nothing." I said with a nervous chuckle as I went to take the chicken but my feet slipped and to regain my balance, my left hand fell on the broken pieces of the glass.

Lingering close I slowly worked my way down her neck, peppering kisses down to her collarbone then SQUAWK! What the actual fuck? How did a chicken get in here? Where did it even come from? The offending poultry nugget was perched on top of the chaise in the room. Ruffling it's feathers as if we had interrupted it doing something important it's beady little black eyes stared at me. Boring into my soul, in a way only a chicken could; I met it's gaze, attempting to establish dominance. "Zach" CeCelia queried under me "is there a chicken in here?"

The following morning, Enzir woke up early with the sound of Kora’s nervous clucking. He looked out his window and found that the chicken was not without company. A rooster was walking around her excitedly and after flapping his wings, gave out a loud crow that could have woken even the heavy sleeper. Enzir smiled as he saw the two chickens eyeing each other and flapping their wings in some form of dance. Slowly, Enzir lowered his window to give the chickens some privacy.

I returned my focus to the food in front of me, trying to calm my heartbeat, which had suddenly become irregular. The fried chicken was cooked, and I drained it onto a plate. The aroma of the spices filled the kitchen, and for a moment, the house felt normal. As if there had been no argument last night, no old wounds had been rekindled, no other woman had reappeared bringing a storm.

Defeated, she grabs a book from under a pillow: ‘How to take care of a baby chick: A guide for beginners’ . TBC