Write about a dinner party.
Why did the chicken escape the oven?
Dinner parties. Clink clink goes the silverware on the fine china. Everybody’s chatting away, drinking, eating but
where’s the chicken? did mamma lose the chicken? it was in the oven not even five minutes ago. the chicken couldn’t just disappear, could it? I don’t know but either way we are minus one chicken. what are we going to do without the chicken? that’s the main course the headliner the crux of the dinner but
conversation continues like nothing is wrong
how the hell does one lose a roasted chicken? it’s not exactly small, nor is it the type of thing that can be found in a multitude of places. it was in the oven and now it’s gone.
granted, mamma has always been a flake. like that time she told you she’d always be there for you and she wasn’t what the hell was she thinking she knew how badly you were doing but even after all the times she said that everything was going to be just peachy and the sun will always set and will always rise no matter how bad things get there will always be constants in life that will keep you sane but—
clink clink goes the silverware on the fine china. another minute ticks by. everybody seems to be enjoying themselves. The chicken especially, even though it’s a roasted chicken that was supposed to be on the table fifteen minutes ago.
but chickens will be chickens, I suppose. and mammas will be mammas.
Email me when Owen Benfield publishes or recommends stories