As most of you know, we kill our own chickens.

It's not really fun. (Big shocker there, eh?)

Especially my job.
I have to hold the chicken as the ax comes down.

No matter what.

After the ax does its job, the chicken will wildly flap and kick.

It's not fun to hold a dead, bloody, flapping chicken.

As the chicken flaps, bloods shoots out from where the head used to be.

Anywhere.

And everywhere.

On ME!

Not fun.

Yesterday was one of those days.

The chicken spurted blood ALL OVER ME!!

My pants, my face, my arms, and my feet.

I stood there in shock as I looked at myself.

I sighed, because, really, what could I do about it?

("DARN CHICKEN! I'M GONNA KILL YO.....oh...wait....") No.

As I shuddered in disgust, I hear Christopher's voice.

Now, listen..or read... Critter has one of the easiest jobs.
All he has to do is hold the rope that is around the chicken's head as the ax comes down.
Then he has to put the head in a bucket. That's it. So simple.

While I'm there dripping with blood, I hear him say,

"EW! GROSS! I got some blood on me!"

I look to see.

One dot.

One.

One tiny dot on his pants.

"Weeeeelll now! That's just to baaAad!" I said.

He looked at me.

His face looked hilarious.

I continued to tease. "It's so sad you ruined your pants with that speck."

I walked away to get the next chicken, while Linda was laughing.

20 more chickens to do.

Yea.