Sometimes reality is better than fiction. Currently, I am writing about comical situations and how my family members have shaped my life.
Here is an excerpt from my vignette about Dreyfuss and Damon, my pet roosters:
One day, as a junior in high school, I came home to find my mom with a rooster in the backyard.
"He's cute! Where'd you get him?" I asked.
"Ofelia gave him to me. I'm going to chop off his head and make chicken soup for dinner," Mom responded. Ofelia was my mom's cousin; she lived out in the country at the time.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. I've been craving some fresh chicken soup like your grandma used to make in Mexico."
"You can't chop a rooster's head off in our backyard! Poor rooster! Can I keep him?"
After watching the Golden Girls that evening, I decided that I liked the name Dreyfuss, so that's what I named my first pet rooster. His favorite foods were watermelon and French fries.
A few days after I adopted Dreyfuss, there was another rooster in the backyard.
My mom told me, "You wouldn't let me kill Dreyfuss, but I'm going to kill this one!"
"No! Dreyfuss needs a friend."
So I named my second rooster Damon after Matt Damon. This rooster also inhaled French fries and watermelon.
My two pet roosters lived for about a year. While Dreyfuss was a gentle soul, Damon was a feisty little one. If I tried to pet Damon, he would peck me with his beak. I thought him to be ungrateful especially after I prevented him from becoming chicken soup.
Damon outlived Dreyfuss by a few months.
There were no more pet roosters after that.