A Chicken only lives about 10 years, even a giant chicken like me, Saer. In my short existence of eight years I’ve faced more hardships than most humans would in their 80. Born an outcast from the human’s war WWX on April 23, 4073, I was mutated along with so many other harmless chickens. Who would have thought that an X-Bomb would mutate the chickens of 5 different countries to enlarge in size and gain intelligence? Not the stupid humans, who are now under our unmerciful control. We have gone through so much to fix the world they have destroyed. Chemical peels for the now ugly, beak reconstruction, and radiation skin care products had to be given out free to all the poor. Well, most of us worked hard to fix things. I just like picking up chicks. My life has actually been pretty sweet despite the identity crisis I faced when I was younger and being born a decade after the bomb fell.
I still hate the Iraqis for bombing us. They were mad at the Americans again because they were sick of being poor and to top it off global warming was starting to drive them crazy. If they hadn’t I’d be an ordinary chicken right now living the good life on some dude’s farm. I wouldn’t have had any grade school trauma to turn me into a bad chicken. I was actually a pretty good chicken in elementary. I liked math, got pretty good grades, and never even forgot my mom’s birthday. Of course I was teased a lot, being a chicken and all. That really sucked.
Friends were nonexistent for me then. No one wanted to play with me at recess so instead they said that I was better suited for lunch, which I reasonably avoided. The smell of deep fried relative was not very appealing. It always made me want to hurl and if I did go, some stupid popular kid would try to stuff their chicken sandwich down my beak to turn me into a cannibal. To top those fun two years off, the crush of my life Nancy Louise turned me down because she wasn’t allowed to date other species. I liked to hide outside her window at night sometimes but her dad caught me and called the cops. She would never talk to me again after that. When elementary ended and I decided to get a clean slate, at the very least clear my new criminal record.

That plan failed. Nearly everyone who went to my elementary also went to my middle school. The only plus was meeting two giant chickens like me, Lacey and James Gray. The three of us became best friends. Lacey and James, they were brother and sister so I was free to make moves on Lacey without making James jealous. She had the brightest white feathers I’ve ever seen to this day and a straight, pointy beak. We started going steady after a few days of my natural chicken charming. I gave her a hen coop for Christmas. James was a little ticked that I was attempting to ruffle his sister’s feathers but he pretty much forgave me.
My grades dropped in the six months of middle school. Part of it was because I was with Lacey all the time, but most of it was because my mom got chicken pox. She lost all of her feathers and passed away just two weeks before I was supposed to start high school. I had to say goodbye to Lacey at the funeral. There was a lot of crying and we promised to stay in touch, that there was no way we’d let this separate us. I spent a week packing and moping over all of the things I had lost and was going to lose. Then my mom’s sister Lindsay came to pick me up so that I could live with her. We didn’t get along very well because she had a lot of boyfriends who liked to pick fights with me. She always go mad when I beat the chicken crap out of them. She’d always take their side, I mean come on, how could she not understand when the dude scuffs my new shoes? My aunt was crazy.
High school was the best year of my life. Of course I probably did some things I shouldn’t have, like sniffing corn in the woods with my new group of friends and getting a part time job at KFC but I needed the money for that corn. Lacey called me once halfway through my first month to tell me she was seeing someone else. She went on and on about how sorry she was but that she just couldn’t take the distance separating us anymore and that her new guy Yoshiro was just so nice to her. I felt like de-boning this Yoshiro guy and selling him to the corner store but I kept my feathers cool about it. Instead, I got a couple of new chicks for myself. Nice chicken’s shape and creamy brown feathers. They usually lasted about a week, maybe two. That was all I’d wanted after Lacey left, I just wasn’t up to a serious new relationship. As was expected, I was the top jock at my school chicken wise. I got really buff after all the sporty I played in like chicken soccer and chicken football. I did manage to graduate despite what everyone expected. I had a 1.2 and my aunt made me go off to college she was so proud. I even got a minority scholarship.
College wasn’t what I’d expected. The dorm head was always plucking my feathers because I tended to wake up the campus at dawn cawing. I went through 3 roommates in the first three months. Everything was fine until I spent the first vacation in Vegas and lost all but 12 cents. I just couldn’t help it with all of the luxury hotels and lights. Everywhere you look is fake gold, marble, and water in Vegas. Not to mention the casinos themselves. The chime of falling money and the free drinks all of those skimpy waitresses would bring. Once I got boozed up enough, I didn’t realize I was betting a thousand a shot at blackjack. They kicked me out when I accidentally threw up on their statue of God. I didn’t mean to, I was just a little smashed. Even though I got kicked out of college for not paying my bills, that trip was definitely worth it.
After I got kicked out of school, my life went kind of down hill. I had to become a professional stripper to pay the bills. One of my stoner buddies from high school opened a strip club a few years back and offered me a job on ladies night. Every Thursday I would go into work and pray to God that no dudes came that week. When they did come, I would try to hide in the back or have someone go out to find one of my chick fans for personal dancing. I had some moves. I could use the pole and swim around in a giant tequila glass. I even owned a wide selection of g-strings that my fans would buy me. I was living the good life on no guy weeks. Yep, if I hadn’t gotten old and lost my feathers I’d still be stripping. It really suited me.

Now I’m a pimp because no one wants to see an old chicken’s butt. I have five girls working for me right now and they always bring me enough income. I’ve been out of stripping for a whole year now and I’ve never married or had any kids of my own. At least I hope not, though it’s very probable that I do. Just think, a million little giant chickens just like me. That thought horrifies me. If I’m lucky, most of them got stuck in some guy’s refrigerator. Most people would think that’s terrible but come on, if that happened the percentage of strippers would increase dramatically and just think about how many strippers not sharing my DNA would be jobless. It’s better that way, and everyone like omelets.
My life was fun but socially I’m considered a loser. Next time they want to drop a bomb, I hope they think about what they did to the chickens of the world.