Hatching chickens from their eggs.

bye bye chicky

There was once a poor man from a poor village in some poor country.

A young man has just recently saved up some money.

He think and thinks what to do with his new found wealth. He thinks and thinks while staring distantly at a tree it suddenly dawns upon him.

So he starts walking in the blistering heat down to the local market which is a couple miles away.

An hour so later he arrives at the market. The sun just past is zenith shows the hustle and bustle of the market.

The market is lit up with activity people shouting their offers. He sees old men haggling for better prices. He hears a lot of emotive and strong language. The type of language he very rarely heard in his backwater village. Where life is slow and mundane he thinks.

A touch of amazement covers his face he can barely hide his wonderment.

He walks down and spots a trader selling some chicken eggs.

He thinks back and remembers his life on the village where there are many chickens roaming free then he also remembers when his late uncle told him about how from two chickens can come many chickens.

He stops and pauses.

An idea pops up.

He can barely hold himself still.

If he can buy two chicken eggs, he can raise them to be two chickens a hen and a rooster. And then he can get them to mate and make many more chickens.

More and more chickens over time. With little up keep he thinks. From those chickens he can sell them for a larger price. Those larger prices he can use to buy a coop and more chickens he will have. He could then have multiple chicken coops all across the village.

He pauses for a second.

He approaches the trader shouting his chicken prices.

He enquires.

The trader notices the young age of this man. He can smell the freshness of youth and naivety.

He quotes him a higher price expecting to be haggled down.

The price he asks for is all of the money the boy has in his hand. The sweat of his hand gripping the money has lubricated the money.

The young man looks down at his hand and starts sweating.

He thinks that the price doesn’t matter for one day he will have a empire. One day the man will be asking him for chickens. One day he will be successful more successful than the trader.

So he smiles and nods his head.

The trader trying to hide his amusement having made a tidy profit. Hands over the two eggs. Which he says are ready to hatch.

The boy says thank you and prepares for his journey back. He thinks about how he is going to have to build a little hut to keep them in. How he is going to care for them. How he can feed them his grain. His mind then wonders back to his chicken empire. He thinks if he has multiple coops. He will need to hire workers. What kind of workers will he have. When he ultimately grows across the country he could take a loan out to expand. He could have a uniform. Have his own type of branding. He has the name of his company. He has the logo the colours. Everything you need to create a multinational corporations. Advisory board included.

All the while he is still walking. He keeps walking the destitute path. While he his thinking about where he will have his international office.

A rock catches his foot.

He stumbles. He is in free fall.

The eggs he spent all his money he spent months saving for are in the air.

His ideas. His plans. His goals.

All in the air.

He seems then in slow motion.

He is face down in the mud.

The eggs crack.

And so does his empire.


Don’t count chickens before they hatch.

A adapted short story from a old verbal fable as told to me by my mother when I was counting hypothetical chickens.


by Alexander Morfeo

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