4) Thanksgiving Cocks
To prepare for Thanksgiving, CaCa the Clown ordered five hundred crates of live chicken into his restaurant, CaCa Burgers. The large white makeup-wearing black man had spent the past week advertising that he would be giving away free chicken dinners on Thanksgiving Day. When the day arrived, one by one, people from all over the city flocked to the restaurant. CaCa opened the crates of chicken without having any place to put them, so they were running crazily around the store as he killed and cooked them.
Shortly after noon, "Bets" Greuling, a stocky white German bookie, approached the restaurant's front counter. In the kitchen, CaCa was feverishly chasing the chickens with a meat clever. "Hey CaCa," Bets began, pointing to a TV that was mounted in the corner of the dining room. "Can we turn on the Detroit Lions' game?"
CaCa paused, looked at Bets, and in his deep voice questioned him, "What? Free food isn't good enough for ya?" The large, muscular clown then took the bloody meat cleaver he was wielding and planted it deep into the counter top. It was done with such force, the four homeless men walking into the restaurant heard the loud "Thwooonnng!" from outside.
Bets looked at the cleaver, then back at the clown. "Hey CaCa," the man started cautiously while putting his hands up. "I got a lot of hot action riding on this game, and I figure other people are gonna come in askin' as well, so why wait?" Bets slowly removed his hat, rubbed his balding head, and put his hat back on.
CaCa looked at him for a moment; then, he snatched the meat cleaver from the counter and scratched his chin with it. "Well...watching the Lions play is my Thanksgiving tradition," the clown stated, looking off in thought while a couple of chickens ran across the counter. "Ah, what the hell? Go ahead... turn it on! I can use the company while I cook." CaCa swiftly grabbed one of the chickens off the counter. With his hand raised to deliver a fatal blow to one of the free-roaming birds, CaCa paused for a moment, looked back up to Bets, and asked, "Wait a tic... who did you bet on?"
"The Lions, of course!" Bets replied. "The Packers may be good, but Detroit's gonna end that little streak of theirs. Besides, if the Lions lose, I'll take it out on the Packers with my SUH-bot."
With a confused look on his face, CaCa asked, "What the hell is a SUH-bot?" He then chopped off the chicken's head, splattering blood onto the cash register. He left the body on top of the counter and grabbed another bird from the general vicinity.
"It's a little something I picked up at the end of last season," Bets said as he turned on the television, keeping his eyes off the struggling, decapitated chicken. "I really hate the Packers, so after the Lions beat 'em a year ago, I had a Japanese friend of mine give me the SUH-bot. It's a half-man/half-machine football player." At that, Bets pulled something from his plaid suit coat that looked like a Playstation 3 controller. "I control it with this here remote, and the real Mr. Suh is such a nice guy, he lets my SUH-bot handle all on the field activities..." Bets then winked at CaCa. "Sometimes, off the field stuff as well."
CaCa looked at the man for a moment, shrugged, then chopped off another chicken's head. He took several of the decapitated birds into the kitchen to begin cooking.
Bets got situated at the table closest to the television, setting the controller for his SUH-bot onto the table and knocking a chicken out of his way. He watched as a female server was attempting to take the drink orders of the four homeless men.
"Yeah, let me have the Ultimate CaCa with cheese," one of the homeless men said.
"Uuumm... I'll take a Veggie CaCa with an orange soda," another ordered.
The young lady interrupted the homeless men before the last two could speak, "I'm sorry boys. The regular menu isn't an option until the birds are gone." The attractive woman pointed to the kitchen where CaCa was still preparing the food. "I'm just here to get your drink orders. Now... we have liquor, beer, wine, and hard lemonade, which will it be?"
All of the men looked around at each other before agreeing in unison: "Liquor!"
"Great!" The woman exclaimed. "I'll get your drinks." At that, she turned to walk away, but Bets stopped her before she made it to the counter.
"I'll have a fifth of rum," Bets said, removing his jacket and getting comfortable. "Say, why is CaCa serving chicken for dinner? Shouldn't it be turkey?"
"Chickens are more fun!" CaCa shouted from the kitchen in his deep, maniacal voice. "I love to chop their heads off and watch them squirm. Bwuahahaha!"
"I'll get your drink," the server cheerfully assured Bets, ignoring CaCa. Before walking back into the kitchen, she added, "...and I'd like to put 500 bucks on the Packers."
As the third quarter began, Bets couldn't help but think about Evan Smith, a Green Bay center. The guy was having no difficulty with beating the SUH-bot. More importantly, though, Bets figured out that the man's name could actually serve for an anagram: Haven Smit, the street name of his old childhood rival back in Germantown — a snotty kid named Blake Dietrich.
Bets began to think on the possibility of his old rival having talked the same Japanese friend into making him his own SMITH-bot just to get back at Bets. All the proof Bets needed became apparent when he tried to get his SUH-bot to stand after a play early in the third quarter, but the SMITH-bot wouldn't let it get up.
Frustrated, Bets made his SUH-bot grab a hold of the SMITH-bot, slam his head repeatedly into the ground, then stand and proceed to kick the SMITH-bot over and over again in the stomach. Soon after, the refs ejected the SUH-bot from the game.
With the Packers winning 24-0 at the end of the third, Bets gave up on the Lions and, angered by his probable loss, continued to drink.
CaCa, who was finishing up the largest batch of baked birds, walked out of the back and addressed the restaurant, which was now packed with customers. "If you're here for the free bird dinner, the first four hundred will be done in a minute; however, I gotta' tell ya, I'm tired of chasing these damn chickens around the restaurant, so if there isn't enough to go around..."
CaCa paused. For the first time since the game was on, he saw the score. The insane clown pulled the meat cleaver from his apron's utensil holder, grabbed a bird from the floor, and proceeded to chop it into nothingness. With every chop, the clown said a word: "Damn-Lions-lost-on-Thanksgiving-again-makes-me-very-mad!"
Once he was finished with his outraged rant, he raised the cleaver, looked at the crowd, and calmly said, "...as I was saying...if there isn't enough in the first batch to go around, just grab a cock and hand it to me so I can get to cooking it right away."
At that comment, the first of the homeless men gave a sickened expression and cupped his hands over his mouth. The second homeless man stuck his fingers in his ears, the third shielded his eyes, and the last of the four homeless men covered his privates with both of his hands.
"Well," Bets commented to himself. "I lost my bets, and I owe the waitress five hundred bucks, but I think I'll come back here for Thanksgiving next year."