The Head less Snow White Chicken

Jean lora#19 6.2

ELA-Food Memoir

5/31/16

A silent breeze passes by, smelling like sweet corn.  Another breeze passes by this time rustling the corn leaves easing the grip on my bow. I kept a lookout for the animals eating my grandfather's crops, but with my luck I didn’t find anything. Searching far and wide I set off in pursuit, determined to find the “pests.” I walked through the field of corn, deciding that I should sit down, just to get pricked with a corn leaf. Tired and devastated I call to my father. He comes right away following my voice. He looks excited for some reason. I asked him for that same reason to tell me what happened. He told me to come with him, in which I did, and I saw the fattest, and probably the most delicious chicken ever. I felt a jolt of energy cruising through my veins. I could almost taste the chicken in my mouth. My grip on the bow increased, tensing my muscles. My father pointed his shotgun at the chicken, his dark eyes as dark as the darkest night were gleaming. His eyes distracted me from the rest of his face. His goatee that usually feels like touching cactus, shining a bit in the sunlight, next to a bushy mustache with a glossy look, his face was a bit wrinkled though. When I noticed what his gun was pointing at, I readied my bow, eye on the prize. The chicken was a beautiful creature with feathers as white as snow and an elegant walk, although it’s fat. When my father and “shoot at 3,” he had said,”1...2…” BANG! My father had misfired. I surprisingly saw the crimson red blast out the corner of my eye, creating a noise that scared me right to my bones, sending fear crawling down my back, causing me to let go of the loaded arrow sending it straight into the chicken’s chest. Just then I noticed something horrible. The chicken didn’t have a head anymore. The chicken was not any glorious chicken anymore. It was a head-less glorious chicken. I looked at my father, not being surprised he had the same open mouth, wide eyed expression. The head explosion was a complete accident that filled the air of the almost magical corn field, with the calming sounds and the nice breeze, with an indescribable horrid smell that made my eyes burn. The chicken dropped dead, while my father put the chicken in a bag he would have used if it didn’t break from its extreme weight on it from the snow white chicken. Since my father had to carry it by hand afterwards therefore making me trip painful giving me unforgivable scratches and making me smell something like 15 garbage dumps or something else. After what seem like an hour of agony, my father and I finally got to the house, my 1 floor red brick house that in the inside looked like a tiny part of a mansion, with a little “balcony” in the front, and on the inside there's a cozy living room  where me and my cousins socialize and play around. Next to those are the bedrooms that more comfortable than a silk blanket. Finally there's a kitchen that makes the best foods you could ever make. When we got back with the chicken my little cousin  screamed a piercing scream while my grandmother, as usual just took the chicken with a sort of tired attitude and started to pluck the chicken as if it was her job. The soft white feathers she stored in a can or something. She started to gut the chicken, creating a new bad smell, right when I got used to the smell of dead chicken. The guts looked like humongous noodles and marshmallows. The only thing keeping me alive is the thought of eating the chicken. Time passed and passed before it was finally time to start to season and cook the chicken. That was the most exciting part, since I get to smell the delicious spices and help prepare the chicken for the oven. The smells are overwhelming and listening to the oven hum increased my hunger. But that wait was over, because my grandparent’s and parent’s skills and my quick hand we turned the chicken from chicken to food in 2 hours. Once all the food was ready everyone sat at the table and gave a blessing for our food, since it’s a religious thing to do, and we sat down and ate the best things in the whole wide world. The food tasted like a mixture of grapes, bananas, kiwi, and other amazing things, but the chicken was something else. The chicken had a taste so good I can’t even describe it.