The Chicken

She asks me to lie down on her couch and close my eyes. I do so. She puts on some soft music and tells me to tell her what I see. I say I don’t see anything. The first thing, she says. Tell me what comes to mind. Let yourself go. And so I do.

There’s this chicken. Its white. Its standing on the side of a road.

And is it going to cross it?

No, it doesn’t cross it. It thinks about it, but its confused. It’s a highway. Its dark; and raining.

Whats it doing there?

Nothing. It just stands. For a while. Getting wet. Then it looks around.

What does it see?

On its right side, theres a briefcase. On the left, nothing. Behind, it’s the woods. I stop.

Go on. Take your time.

The chicken looks at the briefcase. Casually. It may have belonged to it, but it isn’t sure. And there are handcuffs.

Where?

On the handle. Of the briefcase.

Is the chicken chained to the briefcase?

No, its not. It thinks that it may have been. But those are handcuffs, it thinks. ‘HAND’cuffs. A chickens got wings. Not hands.

Then what?

A thought enters its mind. ‘I may be a flightless bird. But I’m still a bird’

Does the chicken want to fly away?

No. I don’t think so.

What does it want to do?

Nothing. Its just waiting.

For what?

For what comes next.

And what is that?

A truck. A big one. With steam coming out of its side. It rolls into view from beyond a bend in the road. Its headlights are powerful. The chicken can see the raindrops that the light hits. The chicken thinks they’re beautiful.

Could the chicken see anything before the truck came? How dark was it?

Quite dark but not pitch. The moon was out, albeit weakly.

What does the truck do?

It stops near the chicken. The driver leans across and opens the passenger door. He’s a big guy. Fat, and with tattoos on his arms. He says ‘can I give you a lift, mac?’

What does the chicken do?

It nods. And it climbs into the truck. The driver points to the briefcase and says ‘aren’t you forgetting something?’

What does the chicken say?

It says ‘I’m trying to forget’

And then what?

That’s it, they drive away.

She asks me to open my eyes. She tells me what she thinks. You hate your job, she says. The briefcase with the handcuffs shows that you’re tied down by it. You want to fly away, you think you deserve better. But you’re too chicken to do anything about it. You have a choice, a road to cross. Perhaps a better opportunity. But you’re too passive. You want that big truck to come and rescue you. You cant be like that. ‘Carpe Diem’, she says. Seize the day. Don’t wait for anything. Believe you can fly and you can do it. You don’t have to be a chicken. Be an eagle. Soar over the skies.

She makes me pay. She smiles. I can see that she thinks she solved my problem. But she hasn’t. I still don’t know what to do with the chicken sitting in my truck.