Dinner - A Little Drabble Do Ya!
Nov. 18th, 2015 04:26 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfu“I'll drain the blood behind the barn since you're being squeamish.” Faustina stalked off, a freshly strangled chicken in her grasp.
Napoleon turned to Illya. “Do I look green?”
“Does it matter? We drew straws. I catch it. She kills it. You pluck it.”
“I thought it was a myth. But she snapped it's neck, and it kept running around.”
Illya shrugged. “I would have used the hatchet.”
“I’ll ruin a brand new suit.”
“It's only feathers. Mostly.”
“This may be the last chicken I ever eat.”
Illya patted his shoulder. “Might have been worse. I voted for the turkey.”
Napoleon turned to Illya. “Do I look green?”
“Does it matter? We drew straws. I catch it. She kills it. You pluck it.”
“I thought it was a myth. But she snapped it's neck, and it kept running around.”
Illya shrugged. “I would have used the hatchet.”
“I’ll ruin a brand new suit.”
“It's only feathers. Mostly.”
“This may be the last chicken I ever eat.”
Illya patted his shoulder. “Might have been worse. I voted for the turkey.”
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