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Socks Without Matches
Chicken-n-Dumplin
Everyone was excited in the little community of Chicken Leg Bend located off Cluck-Cluck Drive on Highway 25. The next day was Valentine’s Day and everyone was preparing something special for their valentines, especially Chicken. Now, let’s see, he said to himself. What do I want to do? Carefully, he thought a minute, chuckled and said to himself, that’s it. I’ll write my little Dumplin a poem, put it in a card and mail it to her. Now, let’s see. How does it go? Oh yeah, roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, he laughed to himself. I’m a poet and don’t know it. Oh, well, it’s not original but it’ll do. Plus, she may not know that. Carefully, he put the card in an envelope, licked it, sealed it and trotted out to put it in the mailbox. I’m glad to get that done, he said to himself. My little Dumplin is going to be so surprised. He headed back into the house, whistling as he bounced up and down with a wide smile stretched across his face singing baby, baby, oh, baby.
Meanwhile, over by the henhouse, Dumplin was curious about what Chicken was going to get her for Valentine’s Day.
“Oh, I just can’t wait until tomorrow,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what Chicken has gotten me. He’s so sweet, tall and broad shouldered. I just love his eyes.”
“Hey, girls,” said one of the other hens. “I wonder what Chicken will get Dumplin.
“Who knows,” replied the others. “Why don’t we ask her?”
They all giggled, chuckled and scratched the ground with their feet.
“Hey, Dumplin!” they yelled. “What’s Chicken going to get you for Valentine’s Day?”
Dumplin’s face lit up, her eyes sparkled and she replied, “I don’t know, girls. It’s a surprise.”
“Ooh-wee,” they teased as they cackled and fluttered their wings. “It’s a surprise,” they all giggled and chuckled.
Then they started boasting and bragging about what their beaus were going to get them.
“Why, hush your mouth, girl. He isn’t going to get you that, is he?” asked one old hen.
“Why, he better, girl, if he knows what’s good for him,” replied another.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, cluck, cluck, cluck and giggle, giggle, giggle, they went.
As Dumplin listened to them laugh and brag, she wondered to herself what on earth Chicken would get her.
The day soon passed and Valentine’s Day finally arrived. Hurriedly, Chicken got ready to see Dumplin while Dumplin hurriedly got ready to see him. Dumplin rushed through the house scratching and grabbing to get all prettied up for Chicken. Oh, how do I look, she questioned herself as she looked in the mirror. Carefully, she ruffled her feathers and placed a bow in her comb. Suddenly, she heard a ring-a-ling-ling and looked outside; it was the mailman. Just maybe Chicken has sent me something in the mail, she thought. She rushed out to the mailbox, opened it up and looked in. She grabbed the mail, tucked it under her wing and dashed back inside the house.
“Where is it? Where is…,” she mumbled. Hurriedly, she rummaged through her mail. “What!” she cried. “No card, no candy and no flowers. I’ll skin him alive,” she squawked.
Tiny drops of tears gathered up in the corner of her eyes, beaded up and ran down her beak. When she got herself together, she figured he was going to bring her gift over himself instead of mailing it. But, what if he doesn’t, she thought. She took her hanky, dried her tears and forced a slight smile on her face. Under her anger, she strutted out of the house and across the barnyard where she ran in to the other hens.
“Look, girls, what my main man got me,” said one hen.
“Hey, listen to my card,” said another.
“Want some chocolate, Dumplin,” clucked one hen. “And what, may I ask, did you get, Miss Dumplin?”
“Why…why,” she tried to say.
Dumplin was so embarrassed she dropped her head and ran away. Tears filled her eyes once more. She was so hurt, disappointed and mad that all she could do was cry. When she looked up, she saw Chicken strutting down the lane.
“Hey, baby, what’s going on?” he asked.
She looked to see if he had anything in his hand or under his wings. But, she didn’t see any sign of a present, gift, flower or card, not even a drop of chocolate.
“What do you mean, what’s going on? Chicken, you have a nerve coming up to me calling me baby and asking me what’s going on. Well, big bird, I’ll tell you what’s going on!” she screamed.
“But…but…baby, I don’t understand,” he cried.
“Don’t understand!” she yelled.
“Yeah, but…but…baby. I mean like you and me,” he cried.
“Like you and me, phooey,” she squawked. She flew above his head, flogged her wings and squawked, “Get lost, loser.”
Dumplin turned around, stuck her tail feather up in the air and rushed toward her house. As she passed by the other hens, they looked at her with a puzzled look.
One hen asked, “Is there something wrong, Dumplin?”
Dumplin never said a word. After she disappeared out of sight, Chicken came by the other hens.
“Hello, girls,” he said.
They all giggled and walked away.
I wonder what got her feathers all ruffled up, he thought. Maybe I should have made up my own poem instead of using a traditional one. I wonder what went wrong, he thought as he dropped his head, turned and headed across the barnyard. What am I to do,” he wondered to himself. I don’t even know why she is so mad. He continued across the barnyard where he ran in to cow, pig and horse.
“Hello, Chicken,” they all said. “How are you today?”
But, Chicken paid them no mind. He dropped his head a little more, walked on past them and the barn to the pond.
“What’s with that guy?” asked cow.
“I don’t know,” replied pig, “unless he forgot to get Dumplin something for Valentine’s Day.”
“Wow!” they said. “That would be awful.”
Chicken sat by the pond and looked at his reflection in the water.
“Where did I go wrong? Where have I failed?” he mumbled over and over.
“Maybe it’s not your fault,” said a voice.
“Who said that?” asked Chicken. “Who are you?”
“Up here, in the tree,” replied the voice.
“What tree?” questioned Chicken.
Without warning, a kingfisher swooped down from the tree and dove down into the water. Suddenly, the kingfisher shot up out of the water with a minnow in his mouth and sat beside Chicken.
“Cool,” said Chicken. “You’re good.”
“Why, thank you, sir,” replied the kingfisher. “Now, Chicken, what seems to be the problem?”
Chicken explained everything to him.
“Uh huh,” replied the kingfisher. “Why, Chicken, you’re going to have to take a stand. Throw your head back, stick out your chest, step out on a limb, dive into this situation and let her know you’re the king.”
“No, no, no,” came another voice from a nearby tree.
Chicken looked around and there was a redheaded woodpecker pecking on a tree.
“Hey, kid, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said the woodpecker, “you’ve got it all wrong. Now if it were me,” he said, “I’d use my head and think it out. Think, son. Don’t just jump in over your head. You do want the girl, don’t you?”
“Why, yes. Yes, I do,” said Chicken. “Dumplin is my whole life. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Ah, don’t listen to that old woodpecker,” said the kingfisher. “Do as I said; let her know who’s boss.”
“Chicken, you can’t see the forest for the trees. You’re going to have to chip away all the deadwood until you can see the whole picture and then you’ll know what to do.”
High above them circled two buzzards, gliding around and around. All o
f a sudden, they flew in and landed right beside Chicken.
“Well, well, well, Chicken, got yourself a little problem don’t you?” questioned the buzzards.
Confused and hopeless, Chicken told them his problem.
“Well,” said one buzzard. “My brother and I have never had that kind of a problem before.”
“We know, old buzzard breath,” replied the kingfisher.
“Now, as I was saying, it’s good to sort of lie back and give it some time. However, keep a keen eye and when the right time comes, move in. That works nearly every time,” advised the buzzard.
The more his friends talked to him, the more confused and mixed up he got. Finally, he stood up and headed back across the barnyard and left them behind arguing over what he should do. Chicken walked on and thought about what his friends had said. He poked out his chest, threw back his head, stopped, planted his feet firmly on the ground and thought, I am king. About that time, he heard someone calling his name.
“Chicken, Chicken,” called the voice.
He quickly looked up and saw Dumplin running across the barnyard. He looked back at his friends, then he looked at Dumplin and then back at his friends again. Kingfisher threw back his head, poked out his chest and mouthed to him that he was the king.
A big lump hung in Chicken’s throat. Dumplin ran up to him and hugged him tightly.
“I’m sorry, Chicken,” she said.
With sweat beaded up on his forehead, he stood boldly with his chest out and his head back.
“You forgive me, don’t you?” pleaded Dumplin.
He swallowed that big old lump, dropped his chest, lowered his head and said, “Yes, Dumplin. I forgive you.”
She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him again. Chicken was like butter in her arms.
“But, baby, what was so wrong?” he asked. “What did I do?”
She batted her big blue eyes at him and explained what had happened.
“When I went to the mailbox and got my mail, I didn’t have a Valentine’s Day gift from you. After I saw you earlier, I went back home and something told me to check the mailbox again and I did. That’s when I found your sweet and thoughtful card. I was in such a hurry the first time; I left the card in the box by accident. Thank you, sweetie, for my gift. It was so sweet of you.”
“You’re welcome, Dumplin,” he replied, “anything for my girl. Ah, baby, you shouldn’t have,” Chicken said when she handed him his gift. “Girl, you are something else.”
He placed his wing around her and walked her home. Kingfisher, woodpecker and the buzzard brothers waved at them when they passed by.
“Chicken,” whispered kingfisher. “You’re the man.”
Chicken turned to him and winked as Chicken ‘n Dumplin disappeared out of sight.