The Chickens.

My sister & I had a family get together in Kaneohe, which also happened to be the area where Hawaiian Memorial Park is located, which also happened to be where our grandparents’ graves were.

I hadn’t been there since the burial.   Frankly I don’t feel our grandparents are anywhere near their graves; I think they’re hanging out in more familiar places, if they’re hanging out at all.   But graves are traditional, designated points of communication with the dead unless you’re a weirdo & have gone through the trouble of officiating some other more convenient spot (which I have not, by the way), & graves should be visited every so often if only for form’s sake.

I had some Nutter Butters for my grandfather & roasted nori for my grandmother. Yeah, I’m a pagan. I intended to ask for power over the elements or something. I’m joking. No, really.

Hawaii Memorial Park is a big place.   You need to drive through the cemetery along its various little roads, & I only knew the general direction that Audrey & I needed to go.   I knew it was to the right & up, because I remembered the spot itself being at the top of a hill.   It’s a nice spot.   Even without any shade it’s cool & breezy, & the view is nice.   You could totally BBQ there.   Well, not really.   But it’s a nice spot.

So Audrey & I drove slowly along various roads until we came to a spot that was definitely not the spot we wanted to go, although it seems almost all spots in there are quite pleasant.   At the bottom of a turnaround we paused to look at a large gathering of feral chickens.   There were all kinds, of all colors.   There was a lull in the clucking as they all stopped & looked at us. Audrey & I made a few ghetto jokes.

We looked at them from the car.   I snapped a few pictures.

I found myself mesmerized by 2 chicks standing only a few feet from the car, who began cheeping, cutely, at me.   They were so cute.   I took a couple of pictures of them.   On a side note the pictures weren’t as cute today when I went through them.   Chicks, & perhaps chickens in general, possess some kind of glamour that doesn’t translate in photographs.   Maybe it was this very glamour that confused my senses such that I didn’t realize that the chickens were, as one, slowly surrounding &, the only sound the hypnotic cheeping of the chicks, closing in.   It was Audrey that pointed it out, & some vague feeling of doom caused me to put my camera on video.   Maybe they would only find our bones.   But I would leave behind a record of what happened to us.

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3 responses to “The Chickens.

  1. I have a video of Audrey outside of the car confronting our attackers but am not at liberty to share that just yet. Or ever, possibly. If I wish to live.

  2. Heck, if you had to negotiate your freedom by bartering half of the Nutter Butters & roasted nori, that’s quite understandable (assuming that’s the case). But, if it’s not…I would’ve loved to see the manner in which those cluckers were confronted nonetheless!! Intriguing and awesome as always Lauren =D

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