Trials and Tribulations, seen through the short glorious lives of Precious and Fluffy

This past weekend I was in Austin, Texas to visit some friends. Because of this event of a large group of friends converging in one place, the hosts had taken it upon themselves to raise two chickens, Precious and Fluffy, in order to ensure a delectable meal on the evening of April 23rd.
The first step of preparation entailed the confinement of the chickens into a cardboard box so they could be transported to the place of our barbeque, which was across town from where they were being confined. It was a difficult task to catch the chickens. I found out that running at them is not a desirable way to capture your dinner. Soon enough we had them at the barbeque with a nice fire awaiting their arrival. I took my perch on a balcony above a cement slab where Precious was the first to be slayed. One person held down the body, while another held its neck out and up in order to provide a nice target for the knife. In two quick swipes, the neck was cut and the chicken was pinned down while blood flowed into a small dish. I was surprised to see that Precious didn’t do as much wiggling as I had always heard they do when they meet their end. He was held down for about three minutes until he gave his last convulsion. Fluffy followed suit to the holy land.
After grilling our victory meal, it was decided that I have eaten better chicken. They had lost considerable weight from when they were purchased several weeks before, so there wasn’t a lot of fat to provide delicious flavor. Apparently they didn’t eat what they were fed, but merely relied on bark and small bugs for nourishment. I think at some point another attempt will have to be made. While eating my meal, much thought was provoked when I considered the fact that I had just seen that particular bite walking around the grass but a few short hours ago.