Finally, an ominous, slow, steady thunk...thunk...thunk... reverberated through the jungle, ever closer and louder. And then, suddenly, there it stood, at the entryway to the pit opposite the unusually well-dressed prospector, restrained from the attack by a pen of rusting steel bars with a locked gate facing the arena and its prospective dinner. An audible gasp went through the audience.
For there stood, not a three hundred pound fighting chicken as the crowd was accustomed to for these festivities, but a mountain of chicken flesh, a veritable Annapurna of breast and thigh, seemingly sufficient to stock Asuncion's lone KFC for a goodly number of days. The frightful torso was crowned by a combed head the size of a wild boar. A good six hundred pounds give or take, and well nigh seven feet in height. The head, with beady eyes the size of quarters, jerked forward and back chicken-style, balefully surveying the squirming crowds, the suddenly whimpering children. It slowly directed its pitiless gaze on the quaking fortune hunter at the opposite end of the pit, tensed its muscles, and flung forward with an awesome force at the iron gate with a thunderous "BAWK!!!" The gate bent with the shock of impact, but held. The crowd winced visibly.
"Ha Ha!! Hey that one big chicken!! Steroids works great huh!!" Juan cackled from the box seat next to the drug lord, who bore a resemblance to nothing other than an anthropomorphic variant of Jabba the Hut. He was grinning now, having successfully taken back all his side bets, drug lords being able to do such things with considerable aplomb.
Juan stood up in the box seat and quieted the crowd. "GOOD EVENINGS LADIES THE GENTLEMAN!! Hey, pipes down theres. First, we wants say all everybodys bigs thanks to big buddy moneybags friends here who pays bucks we all sits around has the big event!!" The drug lord nodded and waved magnanimously as the crowd roared approval. A flunkie scurried into the arena and planted a flagpole in the surface of the pit, which was matted with dried blood and large white feathers. He scrambled out, visibly terrified by his proximity to the avian monster. "And now, alls please rises for the songsingings our National Anthems!!"
[Mute button; beer/bathroom break]
The crowd took its seats again. The cheerleaders began waving their pompoms. And the excitement surged and a cry went up as one of the attendants flipped the latch on the gate restraining the great chicken. The ancient gate fell forward with a great clang, giving the chicken an open path to his prey.
The mountainous bird stepped slowly and deliberately into the ring, his eyes unerringly fixed on the hapless Drygulch Dan's jugular region no more than thirty feet away. Drygulch stood transfixed, as if hypnotized by the frightening countenance of his tormentor. The chicken began pounding hard on the ground, slowly raising first one tree-like thigh high in the air, then down with a great thud, then the other, precisely like a Sumo wrestler chasing evil demons from the ring before a match.
"Ha Ha!!! Hey, I teaches him thats!! Nice touches huh?? Hey, smelly Dan mans!! Yeah, you rot face!! Waves cape stupids!! Wave capes!!" Drygulch awoke from his stupor with a start, grinned suddenly, and began gesturing with the little red cape at the audience, first on one side of the ring, and then the other. The chicken, catching sight of the red cape waving in the air, let out another sonorous "BAWK," sighted on the cape and charged, its more than a quarter ton of blind malevolent fury surging across the pit. |
