Of cocks and honor.

Rooster Art, original oil painting by Debra Hurd

Rooster Art, original oil painting by Debra Hurd

I know nothing about guns except that I should get one. My father owned a few guns and used to stash them around the house in the hollow spaces between the decorative wood panelings and the actual wall. He would go shooting at least once a month. He would use them to kill chickens in his farm and the endangered carnivore birds that hunted his chickens (see: guaraguao). If I was a chicken, I would have serious mixed feelings about my father’s gun usage.

My dad only killed chickens for food or to settle chicken disputes. Chickens can get out of hand, especially when they raise little cocks. We ate the eggs for the most part, but sometimes he would let some hatch to maintain the population. I’d say, from a batch of 6-8 eggs, only one would be male. This is when chicken drama ensues.

I hate cock fights in the sport sense. But when you see one how nature intended it to be, oh, it is quite a scene. Even the chickens gather around to watch the spectacle. You know one of them will win and bathe in honor and glory. The sexiest chickens will become the winner’s groupies. The loser would be humiliated and forever remain an unfuckable outcast with his feathers all jacked up as if he just got done with his 4th round of chemo, and with an incurable limp that screams of weakness and defeat. Cocks take their feathers very seriously as they are very shiny and add fullness- makes them look bigger and dignified. For a cock, having a prominent tail is the equivalent of a king’s crown… or a Lacoste polo for the douchebags.

Usually the loser cock will follow the order of things and simply find new territory and new chickens who didn’t witness his ass-whopping. But sometimes the humiliated cock will just not give up. He dreams of vengeance. He plots his attack. He lusts after the winning cock’s groupies. He starts to spread rumors about winning cock’s sexuality. He goes on a marihuana plant diet to cope with the disgrace. I’ve heard of cases in which the loser cock bartered eggs with rats in exchange for coca leaves. (Rats are notorious for having excellent coca leaf hook-ups.)

The rumors, the drug abuse, the missing eggs, it all adds up. The tension in the coop is detrimental to the chickens. So in an effort to maintain a high quality of life for those chickens my dad does the most humane thing possible: delicious rooster stew.

I bet the winning cock felt a great sense of respect and loyalty for my father when he took care of that dick. I bet this act further validated the winning cock’s supremacy and made the groupies all wet. Everyone is a winner.

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