Headless Chicken Mike not only walked a while, he ate through his neck! Slept, pooped, and scooped for eighteen months that way!
The axe man had missed an important nerve which relayed a message: Mike, your head went that-a-way, and so he did too, post haste.
Went lookin’ for weeks until he came back with it tucked under a wing. Went straight to a seamstress to get it re-attached.
It was a hot day and Mike expired before he could make his request. Gurgled and purred but couldn’t say how it was he wished to pay.
Richard Stevenson recently retired from a thirty-year gig, teaching English and Creative Writing for Lethbridge College in southern Alberta and moved kit and caboodle to Nanaimo, B.C. His most recent books are Rock, Scissors, Paper: The Clifford Olson Murders (a long poem sequence) and A Gaggle of Geese ( haikai poems). A trilogy of cryptid, ET, and Fortean lore, Cryptid Shindig, and a further standalone volume in the series, An Abominable Swamp Slob Named Bob, are forthcoming.