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Pastimes : Ask Mohan about the Market -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Zeev Hed who wrote (12404)	12/27/1997 12:22:00 AM
From: Don Pueblo	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 18056

THE TRUE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS.... Zeev, you carry the badge of being a Farmer with pride. I have a soft spot for humans of the farming occupation, due to the happenings of my very first Christmas after my escape from Tyson's labs.... I had been on the run for 8 days. Since we chicken had broken free from Tyson's, we decided to split up, to minimize the chances that all of us should be destroyed. No matter what, at least one of us must survive so that our story can be told. It was a cold and snowy night, December 24th. I was unaware of the significance of this day, having been raised in isolation in the Tyson cages. 8 days I had been running across the frosty land. 8 days without food or warmth. I spotted a chicken coop near a hill about 12 miles south of a major road. Something about that coop struck a chord with me, and I lay cuddled next to it to block the relentless wind. I had found my existence unbearable since my escape. The world outside of the Labs was a harsh and unforgiving place. Although captive, at least back at Tyson's I had my friends and family to cluck with and to keep me company. Since my escape, I was unable to tell if the wrenching pain in my gullet was due to hunger or loneliness. As I lay next to that coop on that cold night, I had decided that I would not rise again. This would be where I died. My solitude was interrupted by the appearance of a shadowy figure. The figure was a human, and from my experience with humans, I recoiled. But this human was different. Instead of seeing a 12 foot tall talking chicken, a freak of nature, an abomination, he saw a shivering creature in need of help. Without even the hint of hesitation, he invited me into the warmth of his home. His 'home' was really just a shack next to the chicken coop, little more than two rooms with a fireplace in one of them. But the fire provided warmth, and there was mixture of grains and spices cooking in a pot over the fire. The man told me that his name was Zachary (but call him Zach), and he was a farmer who tended to the lands around here. Zach offered me some of the food that was cooking, and as we ate, we talked. I told Zach about my beginnings at Tysons (see exchange2000.com ), and he told me a story. The story he told me was about a young couple in a strange land, seeking desperately for a place to stay. The woman was close to giving birth to her first child. Nobody would allow them to stay with them, and they ended up giving birth to their child in a barn, and they lay their child in a manger. He went on about three smart guys who came to see the child, but I was getting tired and started to nod off. Zach saw that I was tired and bade me to lay down on a small cot in the corner ('for guests', he said). He brought me some blankets from the other room, and covered me up. I quickly fell asleep. My sleep was restless, though, as I kept dreaming of that young couple in Bethleham that Zach told me about. I came out of my sleep to see the embers of the fire that we had cooked over. Zach was nowhere to be seen. I was curious and crept into the next room to take a look. There I saw Zach, huddled on the floor with no blankets, shivering in his sleep. It seems that he had given me his only blankets, and his own cot to sleep on. It was then that I truly understood the meaning of Christmas. The next morning, I quickly killed Zach (to protect my identity), and made my way to my rendezvous with the Chickerati. But, I never will forget that kind farmer who helped me out on the holiest night of the year. TLC