Chickens. Those birds are gangster. And I'm not joking, because this is a story of how I was attacked by a gang of chickens. No, you did not read that wrong. I was attacked, literally, by a gang of chickens. Oh, am I about to tell you the story of a lifetime; buckle up.
So, we're at home and the chickens are roaming about because that's what they do, and my grandmother asks me to sort the rice for lunch. I take the winnowing basket and I head outside to do the winnowing because that's where you do the winnowing, outside. Everyone else was pretty much involved in the lunch-making process, and the rice-sorting was my part, so no one was particularly paying attention to me. So I go outside, find a good spot, and I start winnowing. And then boom. All of a sudden, there were chickens flying at me in what was a very well-coordinated attack.
Death by chicken attack is not the way I've seen myself going out. Hell, it's not the way anyone has seen themselves going out. How would you explain that? "She was killed by a gang of chickens?" Chickens are doing organised crime now? That's just... that's just... wow. Anyway, at this particular point, I was in a panic. There were like 5, 6 chickens on me, pecking at me, trying to steal the rice, so I toppled the rice and run back inside the house as quickly as I could, all the while letting out a blood-cuddling scream. Legit the neighbours must have thought I was possessed. "We shall have an exorcism!" No, it's just the chickens.
So, we didn't have rice that day, and I ended up being the laughing stock because how do you get attacked by chickens? Also, in the midst of the chaos, one chicken that was really intent on following me back to the house got its head stuck to the door and died so... not good. But, I tell you, there are some wild chickens out there. Chickens. I still can't believe it.
Do you have any wild stories? Comment them down below! Also, click the button to check out more blogtober posts.