a discredited prophet
Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Wed, 20 Oct 1999 09:09:30 +0100
Chicken: Now you DO reassure me he's gone?
Duck: I told you. He's gone.
Chicken: Why do I keep smelling cigar smoke?
Duck: That isn't cigar. It's serotonin.
Chicken: Are you sure? I keep seeing those specs.
And that awful grey tail.
Duck: That's natural, Isabel. You had a bad fright.
It'll pass.
Chicken: I don't know what I'm going to do.
Duck: You're going to have get a grip, Isabel,
that's what you're going to have to do.
I told you. He's history. All those stories
were just so much turkey shit.
Chicken: Oh sure. You all say that. But there were two
more again last night. Just a few feathers,
they say. That's all that was left. Just a couple
of sad little feathers. And a few crumbs of
sachertorte.
Duck: Well it wasn't him. I'll tell you once & I won't
tell you again. He's NO LONGER ANY
THREAT TO US POULTRY. Not now,
not ever.
Chicken: You go & tell that to the girls in Coup 14.
Duck: Have you stopped taking your pills?
Chicken: No.
Duck: How come you're still wearing that ridiculous hat?
Chicken: It's my mother's hat.
Duck: I think you need to double the dose.
Chicken: Don't say that. Aw, come on, don't say that.
I think I'm a little better.
Scottie B.