Freudian Slips: The Rooster Roaster

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Location: Irony, New Jersey, United States

Life takes us many places. It's a box of chocolates and a Hansel and Gretal trail of candy wrappers. I have filmed as an actor in The Happening, Invincible, The Lovely Bones, The Bounty Hunter, The Greek American, Bazookas, Limitless, TV's Its Always Sunny in Philly, Outlaw, New York, The Warrior, The Nail, Game Change, Cold Case, & commercial work includes The Philadelphia Eagles, Septa, Coors, Turbo Tax & Carnival Cruises. Freudian Slips spotlights irony in short story format.

February 06, 2007

The Rooster Roaster

Remember the annoying red neon sign of Kenny Roasters restaurant beaming in Kramer's apartment on Seinfeld's Chicken Roaster epsiode? Well, what I am about to describe is sitcom similar to that only on a personal level.

I fear mentioning a name here on account of reprisal, but a good friend of mine has made pals with a wild rooster. By the time I tried to talk sense into my friend's choice of strange pets, it was already too late. He already started to feed the rooster. He encouraged the scruffy animal to come closer with each passing building of trust. The lonely rooster must have took a fancy to all the attention because he started to live at my friend's house. Their relationship blossomed when he started to make a habit of petting the rooster's crown even picking it up and cradling it like a newborn baby. Maybe it was a jealous streak but the rooster started to peek in the windows and wait by the entry doors for my friend.

When my friend telephoned to ask me in hushtones if I flat out knew anything about rooster sexual habits, my imagination feared the worst. It was at this point that I was afraid to ask him if he knew anything about rooster sexual habits. I learned that my friend, the loveable lug that he is, bought the rooster hay bedding and other creature comforts when money was believed to be tight. He now finds it comfortable talking about the rooster in public to the mailman and the like.

As irony can only dictate, I find myself at this same friend's Super Bowl party, a gala event in which I find him cruelly serving chicken wings mind you. Before long, I am prompted out onto the wood deck to visit the rooster. I step outside into the wintry night air to pay quick homage to the harebrained rooster. Perched in the tree is the fabled rooster sleeping away the bone-chilling night roasting by ultraviolet lighting. I got to admit that a rooster in a tree turned tanning bed is the last sight I would expect to find to outshine a Prince at a Super Bowl halftime show. The gamecock stirred and gave me one of those stares to crow about because at that point in time he was warmer than me.

I started to rationalize the odd sight but it boggled my mind. Homeless man wanders street in winter, homeless man freezes to death. Rooster climbs tree to escape predators, my enamored friend puts a warm spotlight on him. I thought all this was a bit strange so I tried to keep my laughter to a minimum. The other party guests must have been equally polite because they were bantering on about the rooster too.

That night I thought a lot about my friend and the rooster more than even the actual championship football game. The next day, I went to the gym where I saw a friend of mine sitting in his idling car in the parking lot. His door ajar, he proudly fed a live squirrel a part of his bag lunch. The squirrel pranced on his lap and did tricks for breadcrumbs.

I am starting to think I got to domesticate a billy goat to fit in socially.

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15 Comments:

Anonymous Marcus said...

Didn't I hear your brother Jim could get ghosts to do tricks for crumbs too?

8:37 PM  
Blogger Joe Tornatore said...

Marcus,
You are mistaken. He can get ghosts to dance with a trench gun.

9:24 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Joe, you don't want to cultivate the company of a billy goat; they are mean spirited animals and would like nothing better then to butt you in the butt!

10:34 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I say, Unless you can fill an Ark and float around for forty days, let the squirrels and the roosters have their way with the humans

6:38 PM  
Blogger Joe Tornatore said...

Anonymous,
no iff, ands. or butts.

Anonymous,
maybe on the good ship Bestiality.

8:25 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Marcus,

It is bad enough that you want a 'Bird' to do you tricks, but to pay him crumbs for it is a low 'blow'.

8:54 PM  
Anonymous Catherine Mary said...

Joe, You don't want to befriend a goat. Uncle Franny was teasing a goat, with a five dollar bill, when he was a kid. The goat ate the five an he got it from grandmom when he got home. Maybe a nice fish will do!

10:22 PM  
Blogger Joe Tornatore said...

Catherine Mary,
It is no wonder that family grew up dirt poor and the milk tasted like currency.

10:39 PM  
Anonymous the vault said...

the moral to the story here is that there are no strange pets, just strange people

8:19 PM  
Anonymous Catherine Mary said...

Very funny Joe! Sad but funny

2:28 AM  
Blogger Joe Tornatore said...

the vault,
Don't leave me on an island. He is your friend too.

Catherine Mary,
Sitcom for the Morning Crew I tell you.

7:16 AM  
Anonymous hairybaldguy said...

forget the billygoat!Go for a wild caraboo, or possibly a deranged chipmunk! Then you'll fit in!

11:40 AM  
Blogger Zelda Parker said...

My Great grandfather kept racoons in cages the way folks keep rabbits. He told me they were his pets but I can assure you they did not like cages any more than we do. I have some missing hair to prove it.

1:31 PM  
Blogger Joe Tornatore said...

hariybaldguy,
The minimum age requirement on this blog is 16. Where are your parents?

Zelda,
I hear a banjo playing.

7:16 AM  
Anonymous hairybaldguy said...

i'd get rid of that rooster if he starts to get a serious rash. i wouldn't eat chicken wings around him either! that might be his cousin, man

10:05 AM  

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