Grandma and the Chicken

I was so excited when my big brother Kent brought home two baby chicks from kindergarten.  They were so cute and soft and fluffy.  The only problem was that they grew up too fast.  It did not take long for them to become another creature entirely.  They were big, ugly, mean and had free rein of the farmyard.  Every time I would go outside, one or both of them would chase me and peck at me.  Soon I was afraid to go out.  This was pretty sad for me because it had been my habit to go visit my Grandma Wrigley at least once a day if not more.  She lived right next to us across a dirt lane, her home being only around 75 feet away.  With the chickens out there always threatening, I could only go visit if my mom went with me.  One day, I really wanted to go see grandma.  I went to the porch door and looked out.  I could not see the chickens, so I quietly opened the porch door.  No sign of them.  Only being three years old, I probably was not very stealthy.  But, since I could not see them, I decided to make a run for it.  I had only gone a few steps, when one of the chickens made an appearance and took off after me.  In terror, I ran as fast as I could, crying all the way.  When I got to grandma's porch, she came out of the house in a rage.  She grabbed that chicken and wrung its neck right in front of me.  She just stood there holding the chicken by the head and swinging it around in a circle. It was a sight that I will never forget. Afterwards, she said, "Diane can't even come to visit me with these chickens chasing her."  We ate the chicken for dinner.  Not too many days after, the other chicken went the same way as the first.  I was so glad to have those chickens gone.