when I was a girl I always wanted a pet penguin. My mom told me that penguins just couldn't live in Michigan in the summer, but I persisted. So one year on christmas I came down the stairs to a beautiful tree decorated with lights ...and right on top of a huge pile of presents...was a frozen chicken in tuxedo. I decided to name him flanagan after my great great great great great great grandfathers pet goat. flanagan and I did everything together. We played in the snow, built forts, ice skated and even built a rink in my backyard. He lived in an igloo that my dad fashioned out of old packaged of frozen spinach. We built it in the corner of the backyard under a dormant rosebush. I remember it like it was yesterday...flanagan and I spent everyday together in the snow for 3 months. Then one day in late march there was a spring thaw. I went out to flanagan's igloo to play, only to find a strange smell...like there was leftover KFC in the trash for a week. Poor flanagan was sitting in a pile of his own juice. His tuxedo was dripping with spoiled chicken skin. I cried for days. My parents held a funeral for him a week later...I couldnt even deliver the eulogy, i was so broken up. As we were digging a hole for him in the compost pile I vowed I would one day go to antactica, because it was a place a frozen chicken could live forever....
the end
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