2009 March | Chickens in the Road

You want a piece of me? Go ahead, see me coming and rush into the chicken house, Mean Rooster!

Wait for me in there. You’re so predictable. You think I’m not on to you?

I’ve got your number. I know what you want. You want to STAB ME WITH YOUR STEELY BEAK while I try to collect eggs. Not this time, Mean Rooster.

I don’t even want to go into your stupid old chicken house.

You can have it.

It’s all yours! How odd. You don’t seem to want to be in there, either, unless I’m in there.

Oh, what’s this?

It’s the door between the chicken house and the chicken yard. Not that I’m interested in that or scheming or anything.

I’m walking away. I’m gone. I’m a dot, a vapor trail, a speck on the horizon. No need to keep yourself poised to rush back into the chicken house.

You just go on and do something else and I’ll just– HA!

HAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got the eggs, I got the eggs!!!!

Too bad, so sad, Mean Rooster. See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya!

Okay, I’m leaving now…..

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Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink

More posts you might enjoy:

Old-timers in Stringtown called this shallow pool in the Pocatalico the Indian princess bath.

In 1964, my father wrote a short history of Stringtown, the “lost” community in which he grew up and where our farm is located. He also did extensive research during that same time to trace our family’s history from England to Colonial Virginia and Roane County, West Virginia. Of course, being the disorganized person I am, I lost track of my copy. Recently, I was gifted with a copy of Part I of that history by Georgia, who had the copy of Part I my father had given to my great-aunt Ruby Dye Sergent. I was thrilled to get it, and only wish I could lay my hands on Part II, which includes even more Stringtown stories. Mom? MOM! I know you’re reading this. Do you see how I’m preserving Dad’s work? I need a copy of Part II, Mom. ::collapse:: Uncle Bill? I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS, UNCLE BILL. I KNOW YOU HAVE A COPY. Help.

During the boom there was a boardinghouse for the men who worked in the oil fields, and there was also a notorious house in which Nellie Francisco, the wife of one of the workers, lived. She had several girlfriends living with her and they were often seen in the company of various men……

Yeah, you want to read the rest (of Part I because I don’t have Part II, MOM), now don’t you?

Read Stringtown, West Virginia: A Brief History of a Pre-World War II Rural Community.

(When they make Stringtown: The Movie, I want to play Nellie.)

52: “You’re 44 years old and you’re still manipulating your parents.”

Me: “I need Part II! Maybe Mom will be inspired to dig it out and send it to me since I put Part I on my website!!!!”

52: “You’re 44 years old and–”

SOMEBODY SMACK HIM.

See my related column about family roots in today’s Charleston Daily Mail.

P.S. If you’re interested in ancestry stuff or just wanna see our connection to Stumptown and George Washington, you can also read my Dye family history page here.

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Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink