The Hartley Hooligans: rubber chicken

Tuesday, February 09, 2016

CODE YELLOW... THE SAGA CONTINUES!

When we last left you, our cocky companion, Bok, was teetering on the edge of his destiny, unsure of whether to go toward the light or return to Earth with his BFF, Lola. It was touch & go for awhile in the Hooligan household, and we weren't about to count our chickens before they hatched, so to speak. But our Feta just HAD to live to cluck another day. SURELY he could pull through! He's a tough old bird, right?!?!

We were bound & determined to stick our necks out any way possible to save that little guy. Granted, Bok was no spring chicken, but his life still had worth and value, and we would pull out all the stops to help our Feta rule this roost yet again.

We suctioned...

...and we suctioned some more.

[PS -- Guess what? Chicken butt.]

7? O.M.G. His temp is down to SEVEN DEGREES?!?!? We're losing him!!!
DAMN THAT WASHING MACHINE OF DOOM!

Let's see if a rectal temperature reading is more accurate... Ummmm, no.
Come on, ya dumb cluck!!! Put up a freakin' squawk!

Ohhhhh nooooooooo!!!!!! Wattle we do?!?!? (See what I did there?!)

Be brave, Bok. Come back to your flock.
They say Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy can sometimes be effective with near-drownings, so we had to give it a go.
If it was good enough for Michael Jackson, it is good enough for our Feta.

On a wing & a prayer, Scott tried tiny chest/breast compressions on our
fowl friend with hopes that Feta would once again strut his stuff.

When all else failed, Scott tried mouth-to-beak resuscitation...

... and he was sure to listen for any signs of clucking and/or breathing.

There was only one thing left to try... fried chicken. I mean, shocking our rubbery rooster back to life.

CLEAR!!!

And now it was simply a waiting game. Would Feta "wake up with the chickens" ever again? Would he ruffle any more feathers? Would he ever cross the road? Would he run around like a chicken with his head cut off? Would the sky continue falling? Would he ever choke his own chicken (wait, wrong chicken quote... oopsie!)? Would he ever again do the "funky chicken" in all his glory?!?!? And furthermore, which DID come first -- Bok or the egg?! So many questions, so few answers. Only time would tell.

I would SO cue the 2004 Grammy Award-winning anthem titled “Shake Ya Tailfeather” by Nelly, P. Diddy (or is it Puff Daddy? Puffy? Diddy? Sean? Sean John? Cluck it, I give up.) & Murphy Lee if I could right now because that Bok OG (Original Gallus, as in Gallus Domesticus, the scientific name of the common chicken. Not to be confused with Common, the rapper.) cock-a-doodle-doo’ed himself right back to life, by gum!

Feta & his colorful counterpart attempt to coexist with Mrs. Pocket in complete harmony.

Wait, who is this guy?!?! Imma wring his neck!

Mmmmm...tastes like chicken.

Lola says, "The yolks on you!" by subtly attempting to "Ozzy Osbourne" poor stand-in Feta.
She clearly isn't his "Mother Hen."
(Note: No chickens or dwarves were harmed during the filming of this dorky melodrama.)

Pocket has never been more cocksure of anything in all her life. That fake Feta got what he deserved!!! They say poultry maintain a definite pecking order, and that is CLEARLY evident here.

Nothin' but LOVE

Bok = Cock of the Walk
#rockoutwithyourbokout

Friday, January 15, 2016

CODE YELLOW!

(NOTE: Real Feta is considerably less red in the head/claw region than the chicken pictured above.
An impostor chicken was used for the "LOST!" poster, as real Bok was MIA.)

On the morning of January 8, I snapped the below photo of Cash & Lola. As I zoomed in closer to look at the picture, I gasped and chills spread throughout my body when I realized that our loyal compadre, Bok, was not in his trusty protector's hand. (For all you newbies, Bok -- also known as Feta -- is literally the ONLY thing in the whole wide world that Lola has ever voluntarily held onto, her rubbery roommate, her feathery-yet-non-feathery, feta-cheese-stankin' friend, her poultry partner-in-crime, her yellow yardbird, her chickeny chum. I could go on all. day. long!) Yes, it is common for Feta & Lola to "break up" or be "on a break" several times a day. She frequently drops him like a bad habit, and they live the single life for the rest of the day. Other times, he falls from her tight grasp and gets kicked under the couch. Not today, friends. Not today.

#CashandLola ~ BFF's times infinity

Nope, today was a different story entirely. I checked all the usual locations for that little pecker, and he was nowhere to be found. He wasn't under either couch, either ottoman, the chair, Claire's beanbag, or on top of the ottoman. He wasn't on the kitchen counter drying with the g-tube extensions after a good cleaning/bath. He wasn't on the tray with all the remote controls and pens and essential oils (yep, I'm one of THOSE people!). I even pulled up all the couch cushions to check for his lifeless, little body, to no avail. What the cluck?!?! Where WAS he?!?!

At this point, I was beginning to assume Cash had come into play with our beloved Bok. I began to fear the worst. Was he residing within a certain someone's colon and/or in a dung pile in our back yard? If so, could he be saved? And if he were miraculously found & saved, could he still be Lola's sidekick if I boiled him, or would that be wrong?! I almost went outside to look, but then I opted against it. (Hey, why do all my posts somehow end up circling back around to discussing shit?! It's like the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon except in turd form. WTH!?!?) Instead, I decided to bust out a backup Bok. I know, I know. TOO SOON. I get it. I didn't want to believe he was gone either. But Lola seemed distressed, so I caved. I dug out my bag of alternate Fetas, removed the keychain ring (don't judge, it was the only 3" rubber chickens I could find on Amazon), and stuck that trickster in her hand.

Upon having Fake Feta placed in her hand as a substitute for her Bok OG, Lola immediately became wide-eyed and distressed. She stared wildly into the distance while hearkening back to the wise words of Lyndon B. Johnson, the 36th President of The United States of America ~ “I may not know much, but I know chicken shit from chicken salad.”
That's my girl.

Shortly thereafter, as I sat on the couch racking my ~~bird~~brain trying to figure out where on earth Feta could be, I hatched an idea. I wasn't about to put all my eggs in one basket, but I had a pretty good idea of where he might be. I dashed into the laundry room, flung open the washer (which was full of clean, wet clothes, as usual), and I began removing piece-by-piece, shaking each one, hopeful that Bok might magnificently reappear. When I was almost to the bottom, I grabbed a blanket, gave it a good shake, and much to my surprise, Feta took flight (it was only a short flight though, as chickens are not capable of long distance flights)! He sailed majestically through the air, descended rapidly, and lodged himself precariously in the deep crevasse between the washing machine and our laundry cart. I could barely believe my eyes! FETA WAS FOUND!

Save yourself, Feta! Don't fall deeper into the dark abyss!

At precisely that moment, Scott got home from work. The garage door opened, he walked in, and I yelled, "Bok's been lost! I couldn't find him anywhere & I looked EVERYWHERE! I finally figured out that he might have gotten wrapped up or hidden in a blanket & accidentally thrown in the washer with the dirty clothes & so I went to look & I shook out a blanket & he went airborne & somehow ended up almost plummeting to his death between the washer! Look where he landed! HE WENT THROUGH A WHOLE 57 MINUTE WASH LOAD! I am so glad he is found because fake Bok sucks!!!!!" To which Scott calmly replied, "We must save him." He quickly rushed out to the garage and returned with this...