Flickin Chicken

This past month has been one mourning a most epic tragedy that was simultaneously coupled with a most fantastical event. Let me first begin by illustrating the fanastical event called "Le Date Ala Chicken" We decided to set up two of our friends and go on a double date with them. The male friend, Blind Dave (which ironically sounds a lot like Blind Date) with our female friend, Mulan.

(Blind Dave)

(Mulan)

Sel and I wrangled up a rotessiere chicken and other delectable picnic-esque foods and headed to the ever classy, ever exciting Wilkinson center with our smashing companions.

During dinner, Mulan revealed to Blind Dave her desire to go into Brain Discount Sales. As she is a neuroscience major, this makes complete sense. Who better to trust in the purchase of your next brain than a neuroscience graduate? She promised to start a website soon to advertise her up and coming business.

After dinner, the games began. Flickin Chicken is played like frisbee golf with a movable target except the frisbee is a small rubber chicken. The point of the game is to hit the targets in the least amount of throws and win the honor of wearing the Cap of Chicken Flickin Victory)

(Mulan wearing the Cap of Chicken Flicken Victory)

I was obviously the best considering my extensive background in athletics. (I lost. Big time. Even bigger than you are currently imagining actually.) While in the library, which has become a favorite to get into shenanigans at, we placed the target atop a bookcase. Stepped back a few rows and started by attempting to throw it over the other bookcases. On our second throw, a security guard decided to mozy his authoritative self over to our game arena. We hurriedly pretended to all be in separate rows looking intensely at some very outdated books.

After he left, my poor chicken, chacochiko, was nowhere to be found. We continued looking on every single row for the next forty-five minutes. I was getting desperate because I know how rubber chickens can have severe panic attacks when separated from their rubber chicken family members. I decided to face the evil security guard who probably kidnapped my chicken on his rounds. I went to the first security desk and asked if anyone had turned in a brown, small rubber chicken.

Security Girl 1: A brown rubber chicken? Hahahahah.

Me: No. I am serious.

Security Girl 1: Wait, really?

Me: Yes. A security guard just passed by me about 30 minutes ago and I was wondering if he picked up my chicken.

Security Girl 1: Um....let me go check. (Enters Security Office) Hey, Chad, did you by chance pick up a rubber chicken in your last rounds?

(Outbreak of laughter)

Chad: Wait, You're serious? No. Of course not...Why would there be a rubber chicken in the library?

Twenty bucks that kid totally stole my chicken and was too embarrassed to admit it.

After our sad ending to our happy game, the four of us decided to leave and hope chacochicko would find a nice book to nest next to for the next couple of hours.

(Rubber chickens love to play hide & seek, but they couldn't beat the likes of us)

(Mulan, Blind Dave, & Sel Proudly Displaying their non-lost chickens. Mulan developed such a tear jerking love for her chicken that she refused to do anything put kiss it's rubbery cheek for the entirety of our Snookie eating)

On the offhand chance the Chad the shifty security guard did not in fact steal my chicken, I will be posting "Missing Chicken" posters around campus. The reason I didn't do this immediately after the disappearance is because of the Nugget Alert. The Nugget Alert is similar to filing a missing persons file, expect you have to wait 24 days to post the alert about your missing chicken. If any of you find one that looks just like this (see below) except brown, please contact me ASAP. Chacochicko's family most sincerely thanks you. A reward will be given for the swift return of our beloved friend.