The Method To My Madness

Chickens

Oh I like chickens. But not when they are keeping me up. Now I feel as though I need to back it up a little.

So I live in a small-ish country-ish town in a southern state with one of the largest rodeos around. I have a semi southern accent and yes I am a bit country. But! I am no hick, hillbilly, redneck, etc. Now I understand where I live okay but I also live in a subdivision and my neighbors are only feet away. Not miles.

Where I live not only do we have laws but we also have HOA or Home Owners Association rules. For example you aren't supposed to have farm animals within city limits or in a neighborhood. But does that stop my dumb ass of a neighbor? Hahahahahaha...... Hahahahaha........ Hahaha..... Hehe.... Ha..... Unfortunately, no. -____-

My neighbor is a bit of an idiot. I mean this man likes to water his yard in the middle of rainstorms. Now please tell me where the logic in that is. Seriously. I would love to hear someone defend that. Cause it escapes me as to how that could make any sense.

Oh! Or there is his "side business" where he "fixes" cars. More like he just picks up a hunk of junk then leaves it to rust in front of my house on the street. I can't tell you how many times I've just wanted to hit the cars and watch them crumble. I imagine it would feel like watching the Berlin wall coming down. *Sigh

But let me get back to my point. This man. Nay! This imbecile has chickens. Six to be exact. Just chilling out in his backyard. Now as a girl who's done a little work on her Great-Uncle's farm I know a little somethin-somethin about chickens. Like oh I don't know.... Maybe the fact that they smell. I mean when I call someone a chicken shit it's an educated insult people. Also chickens beed that hay because the hay helps to mask the smell. Ohp and a truck bed cover isn't proper housing for a chicken. Let alone six.

So this guy is stinking my life up literally and causing me to lose precious beauty sleep. I mean his new little farm friends and I say farm because that's where they belong, have been crowing and clucking at all hours of the night and morning. I mean it's completely horrid.

Now I'm not usually a violent person but I'm having my last nerve tap danced on buy an idiot with six bumbling chickens. I'm bout ready to call Kentucky Fried Chicken and tell them to come and take my little buddies home to meet their clucking maker.