The Perfect Storm

The first rubber chicken fell upon my lap with a muffled slap. Needless to say, I was startled and, not to mention, slightly injured (just a small welt on my left thigh, no need to send get well cards or flowers or anything like that). Shielding the sun with my hand, I peered upward seeking the source, but found only expansive blue sky and a puffy cloud patch here and there. No one else in the park seemed to notice my sudden good fortune, but being the hyper-paranoid person that I am, I hurriedly packed my new treasure into an army green knapsack. "Best to just leave before anyone notices", I thought to myself. So I stood up, brushed the dirt and grass off the back of my legs, gathered my belongings (novel, blanket, boom-box, new rubber chicken) and began to leave; that is until I heard a woman's harrowing shriek. Turning around, I noticed at her feet lay a rubber chicken. Within seconds another rubber chicken landed just twenty paces away, then another and another. Before anyone could process what was happening, these whimsical fowls were raining down at a furious rate. People scrambled for safety, tripping over the scattered rubber chickens, petrified by this most unorthodox circumstance. Alas, fifty-six days later, I sit here writing this blog. I gaze lovingly out of the window admiring the rubber chickens that still continue to fall. I pray it will never end.