I got in trouble yesterday. Three times I got in trouble. Chicken trouble. And chicken trouble is a very serious kind of trouble.
Glogirly and Gloman had fried chicken for dinner. It smelled SO good. I stared at their plates the whole time they were eating it. I knew I wasn't supposed to, but I couldn't help it. It was CHICKEN. I just had to touch Gloman's wing. That was the first time I got in trouble.
So I waited until they brought their dishes to the kitchen.
Can I help it if they don't put stuff away? Mr. Fried Chicken, or what was left of him, was just sitting there on the kitchen counter calling my name. "Waffles! Waffles! I'm right here!" What was I supposed to do??? He needed help. He was in pieces!
So after I got in trouble the second time, for running off with his drumstick in my mouth, I went over to the window to look all innocent and stuff. I pretended to inspect the kitty grass. I pretended to see a leaf blowing outside. A bug and a bird too. Gotta make it look real and all. Meanwhile Glogirly put all of Mr. Chicken's bones and stuff in the garbage can.
But he was STILL calling me. "Waffles! Waffles! I'm in the garbage!!!" The garbage is no place for chicken. I HAD to help.
That was the third time I got in troubles. Now Mr. Chicken's parts are sitting outside at the curb waiting for the garbage man.
Wow. The garbage man is SOOOO lucky. I wish I could be a garbage man.
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