ROOSTER RAGE - Final Segment (Scroll down for earlier segments)
Knowing it was my body he was planning to assault, I quickly applied a geometrical truth...the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Without hesitating, I roared off, with Rudy a close second. What I couldn't go over, under, or around, I went through. I must have lost Rudy in the poison ivy, because I didn't see him when I looked around.
Up ahead was the Hen House of Doom, not exactly a place of refuge, but far better than being out in the wide open spaces, with a crazed rooster-at-large. I ran in and slammed the door shut.
"Sorry ladies," I said. "Gramps sent me in here to collect some eggs."
I figured I might as well pretend I was amounting to something. I grabbed a half a dozen eggs and peered out through a crack in the door, hoping Rudy had given up and left the country.
What happened at that instant is rather vague, but I remember hearing a cock-a-doodle-doo, flapping wings, and seeing Rudy staring me in the face. Words were exchanged, followed by flying feathers and flailing arms. By the time I regained consciousness, I had crossed a river, run through a canyon, darted between a stand of trees, and was sitting on top of a split-rail fence on the other side of the barnyard, covered with egg yoke and feathers. I don't know how long I had been straddling the fence, waiting for Search and Rescue, but Rudy finally lost interest and went swaggering back to the hen house, apparently pleased that he had been able to terrorize me once again.
I don't know if I'll ever amount to anything, but I owe my skills as an athlete to Gramps Camp. It was there that I learned to run like the wind---even with egg on my face.
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