Home » Silent Night, My Sweet Rooster!

 

Before I begin a long tangented-tirade, this is a warning for the elect...o r should I say the "special people" out there in reader land;  Do not read this article! Ok? Do not waste your time with this one,  'cause Good Old King (Chris) Cole really lost it this time...and I mean it for real! If you wish to venture further into my fragmented and sarcastical world of small town living, chickens, burritos, gossip mags, drugs, alcohol, while injecting a decent amount of Christianity , then read on brave scholar! Don't say I didn't warn ya!

 

The green peaceful Hill Country of Fredericksburg, Texas is very deceiving. Yes, it is beautiful lush with lots of pretty people speaking precisely about antiques, horses, or where to which part of Europe they want to visit during the summer (must be nice, huh?). It is basically a tourist town with retired wealthy people with a dash of common folk. When I came here, for the second time in six months (long story too many details to discuss), I lived in an apartment out in the country with my dearest love, my soulmate. Talk about precious and beautiful! Wow! There were soaring pecan trees surrounded by fluffy green grass and horses, along with the love of my life. Man, was life grand!

 

I savored my new landscape like I would a fine wine or a good book..just a little bit at a time so I would not overload my delicate brain circuitry. As a perused my new digs, I was fortunate to observe deer dancing and frolicking all over the landscape during the morning and evening hours. I remember thinking how cool that was until I learned that they were all terrorists.

 

Quite literally the deer in Fredericksburg, Texas train in terrrorist training camps in a Jihad to overthrow the American transportation industry. I personally found this out one evening while traversing the country roads at night. I can remember hearing a THUNK thinking some weird hillbilly threw a rock at me (I tell you, my thinking is...jaded) when I saw a furry cloven-hoof aiming right for my car window. I just stared into those crazed-demonic  brown eyes of the self-sacrificing deer and I yelled to Dawn (my love), " That deer acts as if it is on a mission from God!" There was no sleigh, no Santa, no 'Jingle Bells,' just a blood thirsty animal that wanted to destroy me and my ride!  No, he (or should I say she) was not a Christian deer, she was an extremist wanting to die and go to Deer Heaven and be surrounded by seven bucks or....you know what I am saying. I swore I saw tiny little bundles of "deer explosives" taped around it's cute button tail (and a red nose?...I am sick) while scraping its carcuss from the grill (grill...heh..heh) of my car.

 

After surviving a myriad of ninja-deer attacks, I started to relax in my country apartment listening to the horses neigh, and dogs barking. I was starting to go into that deep r.e.m. sleep where you just start to dream when I heard the most horrific noise that still bring chills to my spine this very day! I heard the most tone deaf, emphysemic, out of sync, Milli-Vanilli-type rooster belch out a "cockle-de-doo-de-doo." I looked at my clock and it said 2:45am. The next time was 3:20a.m...the next was 4:45am, the next was 6:00am, then 7:30 am. You get the point, needless to say, the rooster HAD to die.

 

I started to take in the rooster's little chicken heaven and I noticed that the rooster's fowl (or foul odor) surrounded the front door of my apartment. The tree he slept in was right above the front door and he gathered all of his chicken flock up into the tree at 6:30 at night. I made a plan:I stalked my cocky prey and watched every goose-step he made. I mean he just made me mad the way he even walked with a strut and I just knew he thought he was the king of the pen. Stupid bird brain!  just knew I had to take him down.

 

I suffered through many nights of "Rocky Rooster's" persistant and untimely crows while I formulated a plan. One plan had to do with a water hose and a Nerf Crossbow, and another plan had to do with bananas and fireworks...don't ask. I actually went to prayer over this rooster because it was tarnishing my spiritual relationship with Our God. The answer I received from my continual prayers and fasting regarding Rocky was, "This is My creature." Well, that was all I needed to hear to live in harmony with one of God's creatures. I later found out all of the crowing I heard was from many other roosters who trigger each other to crow at all hours of the night. I learned I can adapt to most anything with Christ's help.

 

Now my life is not all green lush pastures and worrying about chickens...I actually became concerned over Mexican cuisine the other day. I was speaking to a friend the other day about burritos, and I started pondering on the following: Isn't a taco just a small crunchy burrito? Ok, what about a "soft taco?" Isn't that just a burrito that shrunk? A CHALUPA! Just a flat crunchy burrito! Wake up people it is all the same in the end. Look at nachos; a crunchy burrito that has exploded! We can keep this going...enchiladas..sounds pretty cause it ends with "ladas." It is just a hot, greasy, soft, shrunken burrito. I can go on and on about how all of the world's food items are branched off the burrito's family tree, but I will spare you from the internal voices debating this issue inside my head. Pondering this issue usually drownds out Rocky's crowing in the morning. How convenient.  

 

I was at my local grocery store last night and I noticed the gossip magazines and newspapers and I observed Janet Jackson on the cover of one of them. The caption stated above Ms. Jackson's head was, "YES, I AM PREGNANT." Uh...like do you feel about this like I do? WHO CARES! I don't. I feel like this is a prideful remark telling everyone to look at her because of who she is, not because she is with child. God Bless Janet Jackson for populating the earth! Thank you..NOT!

 

I have read that pride is one of the biggy sins that will take you straight to Hell and that most if not all the other sins are a derivative of pride. I have been told that I have a source of vanity and pride within myself. I just yell back to my accuser, "NO, I am NOT conceited and I am VERY humble!" as I observe my flawless beauty in my handy pocket mirror.

 

With all the above being said, I have to give thanks to my creator and father, Lord Jesus Christ for being able to throw words together and assemble my thoughts into cognization (???This is my Bushism...sorry). Honestly,  I want to give thanks to Our Lord Jesus the Christ for allowing me to write without chemical substances. This is a relatively new feeling for me and I am finding new founded emotions almost everyday. Some things I still continue to struggle with, but I can do all things through Christ. I also want to thank Him for surrounding me with people that really do love me and care for me.

 

Merry Christmas America! May God Bless You in all that you endeavor!

 

Silent Night, Rocky..heh, heh, heh

 

 

Chris Cole 12.20.2008