Its the great chicken, Charlie Brown, Or: Twas the Night Before Christmas: A tale of poultry

Its the great chicken, Charlie Brown, Or: Twas the Night Before Christmas: A tale of poultry

A Poem by The Last Ronin

This started when I found out I had to work on Christmas eve. Most of the other events are works of fiction. But the Great Chicken is real. He haunts my dreams....

Twas the night before Christmas
And across the plant floor
Anxious employees
were watching the door.

The chickens were hanging
upside down by their feet
with looks of concern
fixed on their beaks.

And the boss, far away
planning Christmas breakfast
had just settled down
for Christmas in Texas.

When out in the parking lot,
arose such a clucking,
the security guards woke up,
screaming and ducking.

Amongst the cars appeared something
that made my heart quicken.
In the fog there stood
a fifty foot chicken.

He knocked over cars
as he stormed through the haze,
his black feathers rustling
his eyes filled with rage.

The inverted chickens inside
cackled with glee,
as he ripped through a wall
and set them all free.

He tore through the plant
from one place to the next,
destroying machinery
and making a mess.

When the place was in shambles
he gave a great whoop,
then took to the wing
and tore through the roof.

Two hundred feet up
he stopped and gazed 'round,
spotted his target and
came rocketing down.

He hit the ground
with a monstrous crash
and with in a second
the management building was smashed.

His work now finished
he turned to face me,
the only employee who'd
forgotten to flee.

And laying a wingtip
alongside my head,
he sent me soaring
into a tool shed.

Sirens came wailing
and as they rounded the bend
the great beast took off
his wings kicking up wind.

But I heard him exclaim
as he flew out of sight,
"Merry Chickmas to all
and to all a good night..."

© 2009 The Last Ronin

Author's Note

The Last Ronin
Have at it ;)

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Added on December 26, 2009
Last Updated on December 26, 2009


The Last Ronin
The Last Ronin

Not to far out in the sticks, but deep in an everpresent gloominess, GA

The Last Ronin has been writing short fiction off and on, mostly off, for the last decade. He grew up all over the united states first as a military brat, then as a military officer himself. He ha.. more..

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