Chik or Treet

Make her stop.

 

Psst!      Hey You!    It’s ME!    BUC!

Chicker-Treet. Smell My Feet. Gimme Candy Corn to Eat.
Party City really stepped up its game for October 31st

I was reminiscing about Fall of 2017.

That Mother of the Clucker dressed me up like some giant red-meat goof in October.  She was getting on my last nerve after that “Hurricane Irma” thing, and that whole “I gotta be me” thing.

Gawd can that lady talk. I hope someone videotaped her jabbering on and on to her giant metal chicken while trying to fit this costume on my huge butt feathers.

Please. Help Me. 

Someone needs to “borrow” this itchy bovine suit from her and “forget” to return it… if you’re pickin’ up what I’m layin’ down.

I want to be a Fairy next time. And I got a punkin fulla Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for whoever is willing to assist!

cease and desist on the trademarked fast food maker font
Help the Mother of the Clucker Get. A. Life.   This Cannot Go on much longer.

 

 

 

 

 

Author: myyearasapoliticallyactivechicken

I was nine when I produced the thriller "The Giggle Bug". One toxic bite, and you DIE laughing. I was much older when I produced "Who Cut the Cake?!" A matrimony -n- cheese served up in a mystery dinner theatre. At my wedding. I played the part of the bride.

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