Why I hate Christmas?

To clear the air, I am not an anti-Christ or an atheist. I am a Christian who adores the Lord with all her heart. But there is just one thing about Christmas that gets me mad and highly irritated. Chickens!! Live chickens!!! I hate the sounds they make, I hate their feathers, their looks, everything. I always stay off their paths. I still don't understand why people would rear chickens in their compounds, leaving them free to run around. The worse is when they want to mate, jeez...I literally run away when I see the cocks chasing the hens because they run like they have gone crazy. I hate them so much that I cannot stare at the picture of a live chicken....goose pimples at the thought of it. 

During the Xmas period, sales of chickens are on the rise especially few days to Christmas. Live chicken lovers proudly carry their chickens from the market to their homes. Some use their private cars which is cool, but others use public commercial vehicles making people like me uncomfortable which is totally unfair. I remember December last year when I entered a bus and discovered that the man sitting beside bought a live chicken which was in a polythene bag with its head sticking out. I can't remember how many times I told the man the chicken must not touch me or fly out of the nylon. I kept moving away as if I was going to enter into the door of the bus (I sat close to the door). I am sure the man would have been thinking, "What is wrong with this one?" I was just grumbling within myself, "Why can't people just buy frozen chicken or get the chicken killed in the market?" Or is there anything special about killing your own chicken? Seeing Xmas chickens all around makes me remember unpleasant chicken experiences.

A horrid chicken incident happened some Christmas Eves ago when my dad bought fresh chicken (live chicken which was killed in the market). As I was washing the chicken and nodding my head to the music playing on my i-pod, I took a part that felt weird so I bent my head to look at it and to my utter shock, it was the head! I yelled like I just saw a ghost, flung the head, it hit the ceiling and fell on the kitchen floor, while I was still screaming as if the ghost was walking towards me. My parents ran downstairs to find out what was happening only for me to point at the chicken head on the floor. They both laughed at me and were relieved that it was nothing serious. As my dad picked up the head, I shouted, "Hope there is no other one?" He laughed as he took the second chicken head which I thank God I didn't discover myself, and threw them away. 

Another horrid chicken experience occurred when I was still in the primary school. My siblings, neighbors and I saw feathers floating in the air. They looked so beautiful that we were chasing after them and playing with them. We used them to tickle our faces, ears, necks, etc. We were running happily with our new toys. Then one of us said, "let's find out where these feathers are coming from" So we did our inspector gadget and found a dead chicken crushed by a car in front of our gate with its feathers flying off from it. Ewww!!! I ran to the bathroom and had the shower of my life. I think this wins the most horrible chicken experience ever.

Just by the way, there are two TV adverts usually aired on popular TV channels about seasoning cubes tasting like chicken. One seasoning cube is more popular than the other and I use it. In their advert, they portrayed the fact that their seasoning cube tasted like chicken without actually showing any live chicken. Grandma was looking for the chicken in the kitchen and asked the wife, "Where is the chicken?" But the second less popular seasoning cube which has a masculine name by the way just had to show a child and his mother at the beginning of their commercial pursuing live chickens. I really hate that advert. 

Anyway, this one isn't my own personal experience per se. It was about 2 years back when my dad bought two live chickens for Xmas. He went out to do some shopping and came back with goodies in his car. I was in the house watching TV while my brothers offloaded the car. After about 30mins, my dad asked us if we had fed the chickens and I replied, "Which chickens?" He just yelled at my brothers for leaving the chickens in the boot and instructed them to bring out the chickens out and feed them. Not exaggerating here, my brothers spent about 20mins arguing on who was going to carry the chickens. Later on they did it, courtesy my dad's extra yelling, but they were screaming out of fear and at each other the whole time. 

But good for them, they have outgrown that fear unlike me. Mine's even worse because I have extended my phobia to birds. I'll ask again like I asked myself when I sat beside the man with a live chicken in a polythene bag, "Why can't people kill their chickens in the market?" Or is there anything special about killing your own chicken?