The Chicken

Apparently, my father's car has been stolen by a chicken sans head.

You see...earlier this week, Daddy and I were exchanging e-mails. He mentioned that a chicken without a head was on the loose, wreaking havoc at my father's place of business. Daddy was in custody of the head but the body was nowhere to be found. I suggested checking his desk drawer. It was after a few minutes of feverish searching that my father discovered that his car and Amex card had been stolen. The headless chicken has high-tailed it to Atlantic City for some fun and sun on the syringe-ridden boardwalk.

This was Tuesday.

As of this morning, my father has yet to hear from the chicken. I asked Daddy of the likelihood that the chicken would send him a postcard. Daddy says regardless...he wouldn't be able to read the chicken scratch (hardy har har).

If you see a headless chicken cruising up and down I-95, please let me know. I think my father would like his car back, along with his Amex card. A box of saltwater taffy wouldn't be the worst form of compensation for my father's troubles (hint to the chicken), either.

~:>