Page 13 of A Fowl Match

“No way, she’s not. I got you Miss Helga. I won’t let Violet upset you,” he says way nicer than he’s ever spoken to me.

“No!” Dustin shouts. Everything is in slow motion. The brown egg slowly drops out of the chicken as he lifts her into the air. And the best possible thing happens.Well, for me at least.The karma I manifested only yesterday. Butsomuch better.

The egg flops to the ground and crunches as it falls hard onto his work boots. The shell shatters into a million pieces. Dark yellow and clear liquid sprays everywhere, painting his clothes in the sticky mess. It continues to drip down the fabric. He stands as still as a statue, holding the chicken midair. A look of pure horror is edged in the frown lines next to his lips. I try to suppress my emotions. But I can’t contain an outburst of the loudest laugh that has ever left my mouth. It’s ugly, boisterous, and I snort. I just about drop down on the ground and roll. This is comedy gold.

A few moments pass and he's still frozen in space holding the chicken midair. “Shit,” he mutters.

“Not shit, actually yolk!” I say between bits of laughter.

Dustin’s lip curls up in the corner. I think that maybe I’m imagining it. Although, I’m not, it's clear as day. One of my jokes finally landed. He can’t deny that I made that grin appear. But I know he will, the man doesn’t know how to laugh. I wish he’d let out a little chuckle. Because I’m starting to think I’m not as funny as I am in my head.

Helga sits in his arms looking the least bit impressed with our shenanigans.

“Let’s clean you up. Hand me the chicken please.” Dustin places the chicken in my arms, and I smooth my hand down her feathers. “You’re safe now, the mean man won’t hurt you anymore.”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I wasn’t mean.”

“Just one more trial run and then I think we’re ready for the big day tomorrow.” I hold Helga in my arms, waiting for the go-ahead.

“Three—two—one—go!” Dustin shouts from across the field. I place Helga on the grass. “Come on Helga, do you want some mealworms? You are beautiful! Strong! Independent! Fluffy!” He shouts a bunch of compliments at the chicken.

And you may be wondering, why is he yelling positive affirmations to a chicken, also known as Helga? Well, that may be my fault. No. It is my fault. I may have told him if he says positive affirmations and speaks encouraging phrases to Helga she’ll run faster. I told him that every team does it. He believed me.

I lied.

Honestly it kind of seems like it’s working. At first it was a joke. I just wanted to see how far he would take it. Now we’re getting somewhere. And maybe, we have a shot at placing in the top three. At first, I thought there wasn’t much hope for even placing in the top seven.

She starts trotting along the grass, bee-lining it straight to Dustin. When she is about five feet from him, she decides to stop in place. She lifts one of her legs and stands still as stone. It’s as if she can read my thoughts.

Everything we’ve practiced flew right out the window. Helga is ready for a nap. She had enough for the day. I don’t blame her, we’ve been at it for hours.

“Helga, come here. Remember what we’ve practiced.” He motions with his hands full of treats, “You can get mealworms. I’m your favorite person, come here.” Helga doesn’t move a muscle.

I scoff. “As if. She can tell a bad egg when she sees one.”

He sizes me up, “Your jokes aren’t funny.”

“Gee thanks. Like I need your validation. I’m perfectly confident in my ability to make people laugh. You are the exception,” I point my finger at him, “You don’t have a silly bone in your body.”

He shrugs and throws a handful of mealworms on the ground. “Well, me and thisbody,” he stabs a finger to his chest, “are leaving.”

“Good riddance,” I wave aggressively.

Helga decides now is the perfect time to move. She runs to the treats and pecks them off the ground. Dustin rolls his eyes and walks across the field in large strides. Once he reaches the trail back to town I sit on the ground and pick strands of grass. I look heavenward and say a silent prayer.Please for the love of God, let these competitions go by faster.

Chapter 8

Violet

“Thesepoptartsarethe best thing I have ever tasted in my life,” Dustin says as we all continue to munch on the freshly baked strawberry pastries and sip on warm coffee.

Olive was not kidding when she said she was making strawberry pop tarts. This is the most mouthwatering pastry I have ever tasted. With golden flaky edges coated in butter, white icing drizzled on top, homemade strawberry filling bursting from the edges, I’m in heaven. These will definitely be part of my go-to breakfast stop.

“I told you not to miss trying out my new recipe! And to think, you almost said no,” Olive says with a smug grin. She knows she can bake anything to perfection. And she’s not afraid to prove it.

“I will never even think of denying another invitation to try anything you make. Ever again.”

“Can you stop moaning and just eat it already?” Mason says.

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