I bought a chicken. Not a whole delicious rotisserie chicken from a tasty rotissoria, no I bought a live little pullet, flesh, bone and squawking. It might be a rooster because it makes noise in the mornings. Still to soon to tell. It lives in our "patio" a closet sized space with a dirt floor and re-bar ceiling. It is a pet project that would make my father proud.
We have a chicken pet/livestock.
I am going to buy a couple more so the one we have does not die of loneliness. Plus, we will probably move before they get to be full-man-meal-size.
Secretly I have hopes that it infuriates the landlord for making us sleep (if you can call it sleep) on a broken, old mattress and eat dinner around a card table while sitting in plastic lawn chairs. "Furnished" now includes chicken shit, pendejo.
Mexico is awesome.
We have a chicken pet.
Is it wrong to name your food?
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