This week with Arlene and Jeff:
..."Peecchhuuuk," Gertrude screeched at him.
"All right. All right. I'll bring Junior back." Getting up, he took the errant chick to its mother. When he put it down in front of the hen, she didn't even peck at him, but clucked to her offspring before pushing it under her feathers.
Morales barely beat the yellow ball back to his bed. Nudging his finger against the chick's chest to get it to step on the finger, he raised Junior until they were staring eye-to-eye. "No! You do not sleep with me. I don't want chicken shit in my bed and certainly not on the hide I cover it with."
On the third trip to return the chick to its mother, it hit the ground running while fluttering its wings to help, beating Morales back to the bed by a considerable margin. "Shit. Shit. Shit!" he snarled, but even in his frustration, it was hard not to laugh.
"Cheep. Cheep. Cheep."
Morales slumped on his bed to stare at the tiny chicken, his tired mind wanting to return to dreamland. "What in the fuck am I going to do with you?" he muttered as another round of thunder sounded, this time a little farther away, the chick still cringing from the sound.
It looked at him with its head tilted slightly to the side. "Cheep. Cheep. Cheep," it said as if in answer.
"Fuck it," the human snarled. Getting back up, he grabbed a scrap piece of hide a couple of feet on a side, dropped the scrap next to him and deposited the chicken on it. "If you shit in my bed, I'm going to have chicken for breakfast," he snarled. Turning off the light, he was quickly back in dreamland, not even responding when the next crash of thunder came. The chick tucked itself between Morales' arm and side, and it, too, was soon fast asleep.
Have a goodun;