What is on the top of my fridge???

If any of you have read my wife’s blog, you may know approximately one year ago she started out on a six week project to mummify chickens.  At first, I was a little apprehensive about the idea, thinking to myself it was kinda weird, but oh well, I am kinda weirder anyway.  Well, the first days were exciting.  The preparation of buying the chickens and the salt and stuff, the watching of Abbott and Costello movies where they meet the mummy, the actual learning of the process of mummification all added up to what may be an exciting project.  I could help out and keep a photo journal of the events.  This might not be a bad deal after all. 

 

Well, day one came and the process of mummification began.  It was interesting.  The kids were into it as they began cleaning the chickens.  The chickens were very quiet and did just what they were supposed to do.  Then it happened….   “Where do we put them?” was the question.  Mom decided they would do best up on top of the refrigerator.  Down go my pretzels and chips and up go the drying chickens.

This was okay at first.  The chickens seemed to like being out of the fridge and not in the oven.  The kids would check on them from time to time.  I guess everything was fine until we had our first guests over in a while.   “What is that up on top of your fridge, Rob?” asked my buddy.  “Ummmmm, uh chicken mummies” was my reply.  I could tell there was something in the air, but my wife was able to talk about the great learning experience it had been to start this project and they had an excellent conversation as he is a Jr. High teacher.  I sat there, though, knowing this was going to be a looooonnnng project.

 Well, the chickens kept pretty quiet until one day in March.  I had risen early to check my email and have a cup of coffee in peace.  There I sat at the kitchen table alone in my thought, until a little wadded up piece of paper hit me in the head.  I saw no one nearby so I was very perplexed.  I opened the paper and read it.  Here is what it said:

 
“Dude, this project is only supposed to take like two months from start to finish and we have been sitting up here for like four.  Since you are just sitting up there and we are all stuck in these bags, can you grab us a cup of your Starbucks?

 

Sincerely,

The featherless union”

 

I knew at that moment that I was not alone.  I knew at that moment that I was being watched, and that dark forces were at work in my home.  I knew at that moment that there was a problem on top of my fridge.

 Well, after a few days like this I just began making more coffee and leaving a cup on the fridge and getting it down without the wife and kids seeing what was going on.  Things were going along fine.  I would on occasion get a note asking for more cream or sugar in the next cup, but nothing out of the ordinary.  It seemed the featherless union and I were going to get along like this ok.  Then, I got the first demand:

 
“Ok, you gotta tell your wife to step this up a bit.  We were supposed to be gone months ago.  If we are gonna sit up here in salt forever, you have to come up with a little entertainment.  Here is what we want:

• 4 of these cradles


• 1 Portable dvd player


• 1 Helicopter


• And a bag of pork rinds

 

The Featherless Union”

 
I thought these were odd requests.  What were they going to do with all of those things?  How was I going to get them?  I couldn’t tell the wife what was going on, so I had to proceed with caution.  Fortunately, these items were easy to slip into the house unnoticed as we have many going in and out on a regular basis. 

Well, things started to get a little weird around here in the evenings.  First, our new dog, Faith couldn’t sleep.  She would start barking over nothing and then start a small commotion.  Nathan finally started putting her in the crate at night if she kept him awake.  The problem was that she was now closer to the action.  This didn’t do too well.  None of us were able to get sleep.

Then around April, things got worse.  The Union, as they like to call themselves, started pacing the halls at night.  We would hear things, and they would wake us up.  Andrea would groggily ask me if I heard mice, but I was not able to confirm what I knew to be going on.  The chickens were playing Xbox, running the halls, knocking on doors and purposely waking the puppy.

 I woke early one morning to meet with the union over a cup of coffee. Instead of putting the coffee on the fridge I sat the extra cup right across from me at the table.  Four salty bags began to make their descent from the fridge to the table to join me.  Four bags popped open and four straws slid out.  I could barely make out the shapes of their wings moving in the bags to get ready for their morning coffee.  We sat for a few minutes in silence.  I am not sure any of us knew what to do next.  Eventually, I took the sip that gave me the courage to speak.

 
“Ok guys, I can tell you are frustrated.”

 “Frustrated, we can hardly breathe.  We are sitting up here sweating our feathers off in bags of salt.  Don’t you know we would have been much happier if you cooked us on your Primo Grill?”

 “Yeah” piped in another one, I believe it was Cluckenhamen.  “This is really getting old.  We expected to do something noble, and sitting in salt is not it.”

 “What do you want me to do?”

 “We are not sure.  Can you come and at least hang out with us at night?  It will help pass the time, and give us some meaning for our existence.”

 “Well, I need my sleep.”

 “We will get worse if you don’t.”

 “OK”

 

Things went along fine for the next few weeks, but my wife noticed I was getting tired.  “You are sleeping in a lot, honey.  I am afraid because you have been late for work.”

 
“I will try to get up earlier.”

 
Finally, I ran out of grace for this and began sleeping normal hours again.  Fortunately for me this was good timing because my wife and kids finally checked the chickens and found they were ready to be mummified.  That was in early May.  The kids wrapped them up and made a little video.
 

Now I noticed four boxes with mummified chickens inside sitting on top of my fridge.  Things went along fine, but I made a critical mistake.  I threw out all the toys I bought them over the last year.  It was not days before they were up at night making mischief.  They have riled up the little dog nightly and now they have gotten to our older dog, Daisy.  She is up nightly, whining at the top of her lungs.  I know the cause, but until now have not been able to speak about it.

Last night Daisy had to sleep with us.  She was too scared at night anymore.  Then it happened…  I heard the sound of four small peg-legged pirates grabbing her and taking her into the family room.  This was followed by a spit wad hitting me in the eye.  I looked up and saw four tiny figures waddling out of my room with the dog.

I wiped the sleep form my eyes and followed them into the family room.  They asked me to sit down quietly as they had something on their minds. 

“Rob, you have been good to us, but you gotta understand something.  We are chickens.  We never signed up for this.  We were raised in a farm to produce eggs and become dinner.  We know this.  We never wanted anything else.  These jewels are not us.  The closest thing to what we wanted was when the kids put salt and spices on us.”

“Please look at us.  Jewels and bandaids don’t belong on chickens.  Now look at the fridge.  What do you see?”

“I see a fridge that needs some food???”  Said I, unsure of what they were getting at, and still half asleep.

“No, look at those four boxes.  Look at that lonely space.  That is not a fridge to us, it is a prison. We don’t want to cause you any trouble, but we may be forced to take drastic measures.  Now, if you don’t want to have “Why did the chicken cross the road” jokes painted on your hallway walls, or see rubber chickens hanging from your rearview mirrors, please ask your wife to end this experiment!!!”

I assured the chickens I would do all that is in my power to help them.

Honey, can we end the experiment now, it has been a long time and the chickens are tired…