The night was young and I was expecting a special guest that night. It started out with a swarm of crows flutterer directly passed my window. The rain battering down on my roof, it was almost time. I sat up abruptly to check the clock 15 more minutes until HE would arrive. He had been playing me for a fool by sneaking on to my property and stealing my chickens. It was time for him to end. The plan, constructed by the ultimate mastermind, me. I knew that he would show up on time because I gave him an offer he couldn’t refuse, chicken dinner. He had once been my friend, but he manipulated me for my farm animals. The time had come for me to pass divine judgment. I heard the knock at the door and the crack of thunder outside. I went upstairs excitedly to double-check who I thought it was. I was correct on who it was and beginning to grow anxious. HE was wearing a large rain jacket that was as almost darker than the sky. With his big rain boots covered from top to bottom in fresh mud.
The old wooden door creaked open. Light filtered into the dark kitchen that was only lit by candles. The smell of chicken was trapped in the old farmhouse.
HE was over for dinner. However HE did not know it would be his last dinner. We sat down with a pile of steaming chicken in front of us and a side of mashed potatoes. I heard the kitchen calling to me, whispering into my ear to enter. I stood up once again and cautiously walked over past the table and into the kitchen. The rain hit the window harder and harder as I neared. The candles flickered and went out. It was dark. Only the moonlight shone through the tiny cracked window. Suddenly, a dark shadow grabbed my hands causing me to lurch forward into the cutting board. A big sharp knife sat on the counter, glistening from the moonlight. I looked down.
“Perfect,” I thought.
“My chicken-cutting knife,” I said as I picked it up, admiring the beauty of this sharp blade. I fondled over the blade for many minutes until I heard the voices calling me again, ordering me to go back to HIM. I walked back and forth in the kitchen for awhile. Finally I went to the table, the knife glistening in my hand. HE looked up. I remember the terror that swept over his face with a sliver of moonlight across his face. The last thing I remember was a piercing scream filling up the old room.
Then nothing. I had gotten my revenge. It was time for the real chicken dinner. I picked him up and walked towards the chicken coop. I heaved his body onto the ground.
“Have a good dinner,” I whispered to the chickens as they picked away at his corpse. We had finally gotten our revenge.