I arrived in the US at a place called the Grand Canyon. There was no sight of my brother anywhere so I decided to do what anyone would do on there first night in a new country?. Get drunk!!
I must have passed out because the next thing I knew I was getting prodded with a large stick. I looked up and saw two travellers. The travellers looked concerned, what could they do, there was no grill about, so they felt that they should rescue me and adopt me as their own.
A day was spent with much merriment and excitement, especially when a UFO was allegedly sighted. However come the evening, it was clear that all was not well.
Shortly after setting up the tent, cooking the food (not chicken), the travellers returned to where they had left those most precious supplies - beer & cigars. And what did they find?
After all of the care that they had lavished upon the drunk chicken, this was how I came to repay them. Action must be taken. And in answer to that question that has been nagging you. Can chickens fly? The answer is apparently not very well, although in fairness to me I didnt really have time to learn.
I thought I was done for. One minor lapse, and off the edge of the canyon I go. Chickens are not designed for flying across mile deep canyons. They are designed for walking. Down I plummeted. I thought the end was near. Actually I thought that the end was at the bottom of the canyon, and while it wasn't exactly near, it was getting nearer in a big hurry.