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Man in chicken suit cries foul over abuse
SEARCY,
Hee…Hee…
The only thing I can think of worse than wearing a giant chicken outfit in 105-degree heat with people shooting bottle rockets at you would be…ummmm…well, uh, I…uh, can’t think of anything at all. Not one thing. Seriously. Nothing. I can think of random bad things that can happen to you, like being repeatedly punched in the privates by a drunk and belligerent Margaret Cho who keeps screaming and calling you the c word. Ashley Simpson would be in the corner of the room, sitting on a stool doing a-capella Britney Spears covers. Every once in a while Louis Anderson would come out and spend 15 minutes discussing how he came up with the joke about how long it takes to load a Bayonet. He would then sit on your lap and whisper the joke into your ear, sometimes getting so close that you can feel his lips and tongue on your ear and smell the ham, eggs and bourbon on his breath. You’d have to clap and laugh in the right places or a frat boy in a cardigan will poke you with a needle infected with hepatitis c. Louis Anderson would then leave the room, but not before he would tear off his pants to reveal a thong before kicking you mule-style in the ribs, then wobbling off to the corner of the room to do a duet with Ashley Simpson. The TV in front of you would be playing My Sweet 16 and if you don’t clap when the little bastards get “surprised” with a new Lexus SUV, then it’s hep c for you.
As bad as that sounds, I truly believe that the whole chicken outfit thing is worse.
“People don’t take this costume seriously,” said Turnage, who wears the suit to promote a fast-food restaurant. “They need to understand that there’s a human underneath that suit. It’s getting to the point where this is really a dangerous situation.”
Wow! People don’t take you seriously? I wonder if perhaps that has anything to do with the fact that you’re dressed like a giant chicken. Maybe you should do something to make people take notice, such as dressing up like a giant beaver who does the Macarena.
One rocket nearly hit him in the eye and another burned part of his suit. Police have heard Turnage’s complaints but haven’t issued any citations.
It’s hard to issue a citation when the person filing the complaint keeps saying cluck, cluck, b’CAWK! cluck, cluck, b’CAWK!
“Obviously it is against city ordinance to shoot fireworks inside the city limits,” police spokeswoman Amber Dillon said.
Just repeating the law back to us doesn’t reassure anyone that you’re actually doing something about it.
Turnage said that during the two weeks he has worn the chicken suit people have thrown smokeless tobacco cans at him and tossed frozen drinks. After a bottle rocket attack, he called police.
Smokeless tobacco cans? How random and specific. Why didn’t they throw Kosher Pickles? Or Monopoly thimbles? What type of frozen drinks did they throw? Hand grenades? Molotov Cocktails? Mango Daiquiris?
“It’s challenging,” Turnage said. “You’ve got to be very dedicated and have a high tolerance for heat. You almost have to have a calling from the Lord to do this type of work.”
One of my eyes just burst while reading that. My cornea landed on the semi-colon. It gets on my finger if I do this ![]()
Good to see your site back up and working again.
Cluck, cluck, b’CAWK! cluck, cluck, b’CAWK!
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