Defective Chickens

 Before I start my story, I want to let you know that I'm hanging out over at VS Grenier's blog, Indie and Debut Author Interviews.  If you'd like to know more about my book, That Mama is a Grouch, please stop by and visit!

Now for the story.

 I made dinner last night and had it cooking in the oven.  My husband walked into the kitchen.  "Woman, something doesn't smell right."

"It smells fine," I said.  Actually, I couldn't smell a thing because my nose was stuffed up from this wonderful cold I have.

He peeked in the oven.  "What are you cooking?  Defective chickens?"

"They're Cornish hens," I replied.

He made a face at me.  "They're defective chickens, and I'm sure they're going to poison me if I eat them."

I looked at the guy and shook my head.  "They're fine."

He didn't believe me.  "How long were they in the refrigerator thawing out?"

"Five days." 

"Five days?  Woman, those things are going to kill us!"

He went back into his office, and I sat at my computer thinking about what it would be like to die from eating defective Cornish hens.  I came to the conclusion that it probably would not be good.  So I got my coat on and went to the grocery store where I bought a roasted chicken - the regular kind - not Cornish or defective in any way. 

And the defective chickens?  Well, they made a little trip out to the garbage can, where they can be used to control the raccoon population.




Okay, one more fun little thing:   My blogger friend, Pat Hatt, wrote a cool little book featuring many of his blogger friends as characters, including yours truly.  The book is called, Tune at High Noon.

Guess who I am?  The duck!  Do you remember the surgery I had in December which made my lips look like a duck bill?  Well, dear Pat decided to immortalize the look.  That's what I get for opening my big mouth (or bill)!  I'll be remembered as a defective duck forever.  Thanks Pat!