Friday Fictioneer: Chicken Man
“What?” Mom came running. “Are you hurt?”
“Chicken Man’s dead,” seven year-old Jenny wailed.
Mom let out a sigh of relief. “He’s not dead. That’s just his costume.”
“Someone skinned him.”
“He’s not dead. Where’s the body?”
“They eat him.”
“Where’s the bones?”
Jenny looked around the room. “They skinned him and dragged him away, cooked and eat him.”
Mom walked Jenny downtown. Jenny cried and wailed all the way.
Neighbors looked out their windows. Someone called the police.
A squad car rolled up and stopped. The policeman got out of the car.
“Don’t mess with me, Chuck,” Mom said in frustration.
Chuck the Policeman tipped his hat, said nothing, but did follow them into the dress shop.
Everyone in the shop, clerks and customers, stopped to watch the three cross the store and go into the backroom.
“There.” Mom pointed to a half-dressed Santa. “He’s getting fitted for his Santa’s Costume.”
Jenny stared at him. Her little body heaved. “BbbAaaaA.”
“What? What?” Mom demanded.
“Look at that belly. Santa ate the Chicken Man.”
Mom turned to Chuck the Policeman and asked, “Think I can trade her in for a new model?”
Friday Fictioneers is a challenge to write a 100 word story from a picture prompt. It’s hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, anyone can play.
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