Miracle Mike

How it happened: The mother-in-law really liked to eat the neck of the chicken. So, like a good son-in-law, he placed the ax so that a good amount of neck would be left for his mother-in-law. 1945, Mike was created. He lived, despite everything going against him, see the jugular vein was intact and a clot was formed. Listen, there was even one ear left! Mike immediately started to peck and preen. Have you wondered about chickens? Well, here is your answer, they just continue on dispite everything. If they are alive they perform their duties. A case of being not so intelligent? Yes. But, there is relaxation in that thought.

Mike was created in Fruita, CO. He died, after 4 1/2 years of being headless. He was on a national tour and he started to choke. His owner did not have the eye dropper that was needed to unclog the esophogus (corn was regularly placed in the open esophogus as part of his diet). He died. But, the celebration continues every mid-May.

I want to create a tribute to Mike. Now that I am done with graduate school, I need to focus on something. I want to create another Mike. Imagine the scene, when Lumpy G and I uncover Mike II. I was thinking we may uncover him during the famous pet parade. I am still wondering why these pets have heads on their chicken costumes. Damn it! This is not a parade for chickens, it is for the very special headless chicken Mike. Ok, the donkey dressed in the full chicken costume is cool, and the chicken heads on the dogs could be seen as being on the verge of falling off. But, these parade pictures lead me to the conculsion that Mike is not being taken seriously.

Chickens are animals, I guess. Ok. So, Lumpy G and I will put them to sleep and work on creating a cut that will produce the correct result. Barrett pointed out to me that this is sick, and Starfire has pictures in his mind of me with a butcher apron sawing at chickens. I said that I know that I would have to pretend that this just happened by accident. Then Barrett said it might gain national attention. Lumpy G and I would carry Mike II, during the celebration in Fruita, CO, on a purple cushion above our heads--it would be absoultely regal. This chicken would be so much more splendid then he could have ever been otherwise.

I have been thinking about this for the last four days, obsessively, and I realize that I have to forget about it. It is not possible to do. Maybe Lumpy G and I can at least go to the celebration with chicken outfits. Not the heads. Then, we can be as true to Mike as we can possibly be.