Chicken
By JD
Sunday afternoon at the Bradshaw’s means one thing. Football and chicken. This was the father and son ritual that has been going on for years. George the father, loves spending Sunday afternoons with his son Liam. Nothing brought them closer than a good game of football and some juicy chicken.
The timer buzzed and both men bounced off their seats and headed through to the kitchen where they were greeted with the aroma of freshly cooked chicken. George slipped the oven glove onto his right hand and opened the oven door. The steam from the oven evaporated into the kitchen air, George pulled the baking tray out and rested it neatly on the hobs above the oven. Liam stood in silence, in awe of how beautiful the golden crispy chicken wings looked. Perfectly marinated for extra favour. George pulled the handle from his white kitchen cabinet and after taking off his oven glove, grabbed a bowl and placed it on the counter beside him. He swiped the chicken wings into the bowl and added more sauce, shaking the wings as the sauce splashed all over them. George and Liam were beginning to salivate.
‘Get us a couple of beers son and I’ll take these through’ George said to Liam who was still staring at the wings, he finally escaped his daydream and opened the fridge door. Two ice cold coronas were tightly gripped in his hand as he walked back through to the living room.
No words were said for the next 10 minutes as the two men dug into their perfectly cooked chicken wings. All that could be heard was the snapping of the bone, the loud chewing from both men with no disregard for each other, the sucking of any loose chicken meat left clutching to the bone and of course the moans of George and Liam whenever they bit into the chicken, the satisfaction was something both men had never tasted before. The only conversation they had was when they would randomly clock eyes and just knod their heads, acknowledging to each other as to how good this chicken was.
The wings were disappearing quickly, all that was left was a pile of skinny bones. George had just finished his 7th Chicken wing but wanted more, he placed his hand into the bowl and was surprisingly met with Liam’s hand which caused both men to retract their hands immediately. They both laughed at each other then looked at the bowl, there was only one chicken wing left. The smiles on their faces disappeared swiftly.
‘How many you had?’ questions Liam narrowing his eyes, his hand is still hovering over the bowl.
‘I’ve had 7 pal, you?’
‘7’
‘Well, how we gonna do this then?’ George questions now narrowing his eyes, he wants that last chicken wing badly, he thinks to himself, if I have raised Liam up like I should have then he will offer the chicken wing to me, but George knows Liam won’t do that. Liam wants that wing just as badly as his da.
‘Rock, Paper Scissors?’ Liam suggests holding his fist out in front of his dad, George agrees but is raging inside that his son hasn’t offered the wing to him.
Round 1:
Liam – Rock v Paper George
George is silently buzzing, that wing is so close to his grasp he can almost taste the sweet and sticky combination of the marinade and juicy chicken.
Round 2:
Liam – Paper v Rock George
Sweat starts to dribble down George’s forehead as Liam pulls one back, he sits adjacent from his dad with his hand trembling, he’s just as anxious as George, the next round is to decide the winner.
Round 3:
Liam – Scissors v Paper George
Liam jumps out his seat and punches the air, a big grin is planted across his face. He sits back down and without hesitation grabs the chicken wing, he holds it up to his mouth and just as he goes to take a bite… he hears a gun click
George is holding a pistol in front of his son, deep anger and rage combine behind his eyes.
‘Give me the wing’ George says as he takes a step closer to his son, Liam looks at his da then the chicken and then back at his da.
‘Naw’
‘Whit, I’ve got a gun. Give me the chicken, I’ll blow holes in you, a mean it.’
‘Blow yourself, a won this wing fair and square.’
‘Liam, I’m warning you, I’ll dae it. I want that wing and you’re no gonna stop me from eating it.’
‘Aye I um’ Liam says smugly as he bites into the chicken wing, George seethes and screams at the top of his lungs as he witnesses his son eat the juiciest part of the wing.
George’s right index finger curls and wraps itself around the trigger, it pulls back until the bullet is fired from the gun, it pierces Liam’s chest, the blood sprays over the seat and some of it goes on the chicken wing.
George removes the wing from Liam’s hand, his fingers still twitching. George sits back down, blows on the chicken wing and begins devouring what is left of it.
The front door is opened and George’s wife Linda passes through the living room into the kitchen, she says hello completely oblivious to her dead son and drops her bag of shopping on the kitchen counter. ‘I got you those chicken wings and marinade you like honey’ Linda says smiling as she walks back into the living room. Her face turns chalk white as she notices Liam’s corpse lying on her couch, she runs over to Liam and grabs her lifeless son.
‘Why George? Why do you keep doing this?’ Linda screams holding Liam tightly.
‘The chicken’s really good’ He replies
‘This is the 3rd time you’ve killed someone over chicken, it can’t be that good’
‘Well then… guess what we’re having for dinner’
George and Linda sit down to watch some late night tv, Linda is on to her fourth glass of white wine, Liam is still perched up beside her, motionless.
George goes to grab another wing but is confused to find the bowl empty, he was sure there was enough for the two of them to have an equal amount.
‘Linda, How many have you had?’
‘8 Darlin’ why? These are the best wings I’ve ever had.’ Linda replies digging into the chicken wing.
George grits his teeth as the red mist comes over him, he slides his hand underneath the cushion of his couch.
A gun clicks
