Threat Level: Goose

So my friend Rick lives on a ranch. Lots of horses, chickens, mules, yadda yadda yadda. It’s quite hilly there as well, and the mud that day was fall-on-the-ass-tastic.

Another friend and I were outside, doing the thing that all teenage town kids do–chase chickens. Red, yellow, black, white–it didn’t matter as long as they squawked loudly and flapped/hobbled away when we chased them. The front yard was a flurry of running chickens and terrorist teenagers.

The two of us ran around to the back following our avian prey, unknowing of the horror that was…

…Gordon.
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