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The House Of Chicken Available early 2009
On the first morning of summer break Nick awakes after having a feeling that something bad is going to happen in his life. From that moment on his life begins to take a turn for the worst: He and his friend Ronald ruin Nick’s dad’s mower Nick has to find a job to pay for a new mower The job holds all sorts of surprises he doesn’t anticipate. |
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“Nick. The phone,” Mom said sternly. I tried once more. "I'm right in the middle of something important, Mom.” "Nicholas." This time I sensed she meant business. I slowly walked to the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Hello," I said meekly. It was the dreaded call. And of course Big Red sounded just like I would have expected. "Well howdy guy," he said in a voice that was far too happy, and a little too loud. "This here's Big Red from The House of Chicken. How's life been treatin' ya?" Things were looking far worse than I had imagined. "I'm okay," I mumbled. Or at least I was okay, I thought to myself. "Great! That's just great!” he said. “And I bet you're gonna feel even better when I tell ya I’m gonna do a little phone interview with ya. That way, if things go well, you can start a little quicker. Can you talk for a few minutes?” “Yeah, I guess so,” I managed. “Great, guy,” he said. “Now what made you decide to apply for work at The House of Chicken, anyway?” I considered telling him the sad but true story of King Tut and his untimely death. And just as quickly I decided it wasn’t such a good idea, since there was a chance he might side with Dad. “Well, I guess because you hire kids who are my age,” I finally said. “Yer, right there, guy,” he said. “We believe in developing talent and work ethics at an early age.” He cleared his throat. “Now, what would make you think you’re qualified for the job Nick?” he continued. My mouth dropped in disbelief. Was this guy for real? Did he think you had to have qualifications to pick up trash? In the end I decided to humor him with his little phone interview. “Well, I guess I’m a good worker. And I realize most careers start at the bottom, and I couldn’t think of anything lower than cleaning up garbage, so I applied for this job.” After I said that I wondered if it came out just right. Somehow it wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped it would sound like. But he chuckled and said, “Well, yer right guy. Ya gotta start somewhere with yer career. Now, I have one more question,” he said. “Are you trustworthy and reliable?” Okay, what did he think I was going to say? I plan on bringing stolen chicken home nightly for my family’s dinner, and I plan on only coming to work when I’m bored and there’s nothing else in my life to do? But of course I answered, “Yes sir, I’m very trustworthy and reliable.” “Well, then that sounds just great to me, guy. I look forward to having you join our little team. Now you get yourself over to The House of Chicken and pick up a uniform. You got a job fella. Congratulations!" I gripped the phone tightly and made a little gasp noise. The word uniform seemed to reverberate through my head like a Chinese gong. Uniform! How could I have forgotten about wearing a uniform? And to make things worse, what he called a uniform was actually a chicken suit. A CHICKEN SUIT! He naturally mistook my gasp for happiness and excitement. "I thought you'd be pleased. Now hop on over here and we'll have you sign some papers and get you fitted with a Mr. Clucker bus boy uniform. You can start work at eleven sharp Thursday morning. See ya then guy." I put the phone down. I think I was in a state of shock. Slowly I walked over to the living room window and pulled back the drape and looked along the curb. My only hope was now gone. The trash collectors had already picked up King Tut. There was no chance of ever putting him back together again. |
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Excerpt From The House of Chicken |
