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Rate This Contest Entry: Contest: June 30th, 2005 Author: Vladimir Gorzhaltsan CHICKEN PIE One day, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in May I was playing with my friend Johnny on our backyard. We sat on the soft grass enjoying the warm weather and each other’s company. Johnny and I have been quite inseparable ever since we first met at kindergarten. Sometimes Johnny even comes for a sleepover at my house. As all really good friends do, we even like the same books, movies, toys and food – like chicken pie, for example. On that particular day we were going to have our favourite chicken pie. We recognized it from the wonderful smell coming out of the kitchen, through the window and straight into our nostrils. Although we were playing, we were not thinking about the game, but rather about the moment when my mom would call us in for dinner. Finally the moment came and it was time to eat. My mom looked so happy looking at us eating with a great appetite. “Yummy in my tummy!” exclaimed my friend. “If I could, I would live on a chicken farm”, “And eat tons of chicken pies!” I finished for Johnny. My mom looked at us with a smile and said, “I’m not sure about living on a chicken farm, but I’m sure we can visit a chicken farm tomorrow after school.” When my friend and I heard the jolly news we leaped with joy and shouted, “Yes!” The next day we couldn’t think about anything but our trip. During Math class I couldn’t concentrate on my work; instead I drew a picture of a chicken. I am not much of an artist. Besides, I had never seen a live chicken in my life, so the one on my picture turned out to have four legs. When Johnny saw it he almost exploded with laughter and we both got in trouble. We got especially restless during Gym class when playing Chicken Tag. I ran very fast, for I wanted time to run as fast as me. Finally the school day had ended and four of us: my parents, my friend and I set off to the chicken farm. Yet before we came there we saw a huge sign beside the road with a picture of a huge, cute chicken on it. I had to admit that this chicken looked much better than my four- legged wonder. I told Johnny about that and we both started laughing again. We couldn’t stop laughing even when the car stopped and a chubby man with a smile on his face came running towards us. “Welcome! Welcome!” he said. “We have been waiting for you!” We came out of our car and heard loud clacking noises. “Hey, Michael,” Johnny said to me, “the chicks are laughing, too. What are your chicks laughing at?” he asked the farmer. “You had better go and ask them yourself,” said the man. We ran quickly to where the noise was coming from and saw in front of us a big yard filled with hundreds of chickens. All of them were white with little reddish combs on the top of their heads. They paced around the yard, looking about them – taking in their surroundings with their little black eyes. All of them were busy looking for seeds and other things to eat, but although every chicken was preoccupied with this job, it seemed to me that they were keeping an eye on us and talking to one another. What are these boys doing here? It seemed they were saying. Johnny and I especially liked the little yellow chicks running around on their tiny legs. They kept at a close distance to their mothers, squeaking funnily as if afraid to get lost. One of them came close to me as if hoping that I will take him home as a pet. I wish I could, although I knew it was not possible. I squatted down real close to the chick to get a better look. Chuck, I thought, I’ll call him Chuck. “You be a good boy, Chucky,” I said to the little one, “I will visit you often, I promise.” But then I heard the farmer calling, “Hey guys! Come and try our specially-made-for-the-guests chicken pie! You love it, don’t you?” The chubby farmer was coming towards us, his hands in the big pockets of his overalls. Mom was waving for me from behind his back. I looked at the man and then at the little chick, and all of a sudden I remembered how only yesterday my friend and I, the two chicken-pie-lovers, were boasting about tons of chicken pies we’d be able to eat. Tons of chicken pies meant tons of little chicks like this one looking at me so trustingly with his black eyes! I will visit you often, I promised Chuck. How nice of me! I would be coming here to visit one chick and in the meantime have another for dinner in a specially-made-for-the-guests chicken pie! The very thought made me shudder and I knew right there and then that not one piece of chicken pie would ever enter my mouth! I sighed and turned away so that nobody would notice how upset I was, but mom already looked worried. “What’s wrong, Honey?” She asked. “Are you alright? Come have a treat. Isn’t chicken pie your favourite food?” “Not any more,” I said stroking the little yellow fluffy head of Chuck with my finger. On our way back home Johnny tried very hard to make me laugh, but I didn’t feel like it. I didn’t want to talk either, so Johnny was doing double talking for the two of us. He was chattering about the farmer, the farm, the chicken pie he had there and how lovely it was. “Why didn’t you want to have a bit of it, Michael?” He asked me. “It wasn’t bad at all. I rather liked it!” I didn’t answer. Our car was passing by the green fields and pastures, and I noticed that every field was of different shade of green color. And another thing I noticed was that for the first time, finally, there was something that my best friend and I didn’t have in common. 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