The Chicken

"Ooh! Come here!" Mary squealed, pointing at a little boy walking along the road.

The little boy was maybe around five years old. His dirt-covered face wore a bemused expression. Under one arm, he held a dusty chicken that clucked softly as the boy continued on his way.

Jack, the photographer, lumbered up the road, tripping frequently on the potholes riddling the dirt surface.

"Stop, little boy," Mary called, and the boy stopped.

Mary hurried over to him, adjusting the brim on her baseball cap as she did.

"Do - you - mind - if - we - take - a - picture - of - you?" she shouted, enunciating every word slowly.

The boy cocked his head to one side. The chicken mimicked the gesture.

Mary squealed again. "Hurry, Jack! Oh, he's just adorable. Take a few good shots and we just might have a picture for the cover page of the magazine. I can see it now - poor boy in Cambodian village forced to eat his beloved pet for dinner."

Jack, grumbling, made his way toward the boy. He slid the covering off the lens and held the camera up.

The boy didn't react.

Jack snapped three pictures.

The boy frowned.

Jack snapped two more pictures.

The boy began to talk in quiet, rapid Cambodian. Jack and Mary both stared at him, unable to understand a single word that came out of his mouth.

"Shoulda brought the translator along," Jack grunted.

"Doesn't really matter, does it?" Mary asked, suddenly brisk. "I'm sure those shots were good. Come on, let's get back to the Jeep. It's another three hour driver back to the hotel and I want to fax them in as soon as I can."

She led the way back up the road, Jack trailing behind.

The boy watched them go with a smile on his face. What silly people these pale adults were!

"Hey, Chan," called his friend, emerging from his yard. "What did they want?"

"I think they wanted the chicken," Chan yelled back.

His friend frowned. "What would they do with it, anyway? Not like you could eat a skinny thing like this one. You didn't tell them to come back again later, did you?"

"Of course not! Our game would be ruined!"

With that emphatic response, Chan dropped the chicken. It flapped wildly, landed, and began to scurry down the road.

"Bet I'll catch it first again!" Chan screamed, taking off after the chicken.

His friend shrieked as he jumped the fence, and the two friends ran hoiter-toiter after the squawking bird.