After and exhilarating ride into the city, Rootbeer arrived at the farmer’s market. As the farmer’s truck came to a stop next to his vegetable stall, Rootbeer held her purse in her beak and flew down to the ground.
Rootbeer walked from stall to the next first looking at sweet corn, eggplant and fresh fruit. She stopped at one stall and was looking over some particularly nice McIntosh apples when she heard the voice of a little girl.
“Oh, Mommy look! A really truly free range chicken!” A perfectly clean, perfectly dressed little girl exclaimed. “Can we take her home? She could share Darling’s dog house and give us fresh eggs for breakfast in the morning!”
Rootbeer dropped the apple that she was holding and stared at the little girl. “No thank you little girl” Rootbeer clucked. “I am a country chicken, you look like a city girl and while I am certain that you are very nice, I bet that you have Koi in a pond in your yard and not one single armadillo.” “I bet that you couldn’t protect me from a rattlesnake like my people did.” No, no little girl, I am not going home with ack!!”
Rootbeer ended her clucking with an "ack" because the apple vendor had just plopped a wooden chicken crate over Rootbeer’s head and she was trapped.
“Twenty-Two fifty should cover the chicken and the transport crate.” Said the apple vendor.
So off in a crate Rootbeer rode, through the farmer’s market and into the back of a mini van where the back hatch door shut with a thud that sounded like the end of the world to Rootbeer.
“Oh, Mommy look! A really truly free range chicken!” A perfectly clean, perfectly dressed little girl exclaimed. “Can we take her home? She could share Darling’s dog house and give us fresh eggs for breakfast in the morning!”
Rootbeer dropped the apple that she was holding and stared at the little girl. “No thank you little girl” Rootbeer clucked. “I am a country chicken, you look like a city girl and while I am certain that you are very nice, I bet that you have Koi in a pond in your yard and not one single armadillo.” “I bet that you couldn’t protect me from a rattlesnake like my people did.” No, no little girl, I am not going home with ack!!”
Rootbeer ended her clucking with an "ack" because the apple vendor had just plopped a wooden chicken crate over Rootbeer’s head and she was trapped.
So off in a crate Rootbeer rode, through the farmer’s market and into the back of a mini van where the back hatch door shut with a thud that sounded like the end of the world to Rootbeer.