Cluck Off

As I was just telling my peeps over at Live Journal, there is someone here in my corridor, who is clucking like a chicken.

I assume it’s a person because well…it doesn’t sound like an actual chicken. But it begs several questions:

  1. Who is clucking like a chicken?
  2. Why?
  3. Is alcohol now being served for lunch and where do I get some?
  4. Am I losing my mind? (I know this option is wrong because I lost that in 1975 along with my dignity – hello again, mom-made, geometric pant suits!)

The last time I worked on this floor I sat a few feet away from a girl who liked to moo like a cow. I mean it only happened once but let’s face it, that’s all it takes to be forever known as The Girl Who Moos. She was a funny bean that mooing girl. Her entire vocabulary (when not mooing) consisted of swear words and coming up with interesting potty-mouthed terms of endearment for me. Things like “Fuckface” and “Sugartits” (which she was using before The Mel claimed it for his Jew-hating self).

This clucking thing however, is a mystery. I believe I have narrowed the culprits down to the mysterious corner office, whose occupant(s) I have never seen. Strange noises come from that office and I believe this may be where the CIA are conducting secret experiments to birth a special breed of international-super-robotic-spy-chickens.

There is really no other explanation.


15 Responses to “Cluck Off”

  1. The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: Says:

    My cousins and I used to do a quiet, low key, “bok, bok, bok” building up to a “BAH-GAWK” explosion to imitate our mothers playing cards.

    I also do a really good baby goat impression. But it’s not me because I don’t work in your office. You should find out who it is and offer them some corn.

  2. The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: Says:

    or maybe you’ll be getting a surprise chicken-gram for your birthday

  3. The Guv'ner Says:

    Lady: You are a very scary person, which I approve of. Next time a crazy on the subway approaches me I aim to cluck loudly (until I can master “baby goat” that is) then they will leave me alone. I’ll show you who the crazy is, subway-crazy.

    If anyone ever sends me a chicken gram I will beat them to death (and the chicken) with my shoe.

  4. The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: Says:

    I strongly suggest practicing your baby goat noises while riding the subway as crazy repellant. It actually works better than the master version of baby goat noises.

  5. The Guv'ner Says:

    It also might ensure I get an entire seat to myself!!!! Maybe even a whole carriage!

  6. WendyB Says:

    I’m a nervous person already. In the past 24 hours, I was convinced wrongly that I had conversations with a wife murderer and a dude who had had his larynx removed. Don’t ask why I thought these things. Now I have to look over my shoulder for evil chickens too. 😦

  7. The Guv'ner Says:

    Wife murderer and Mr. No Larynx…what a strange life you lead, missy. I must hear the wife murderer story at least!!!! Spill!

  8. ~:*:*:Pixie:*:*:~ Says:

    Oh shit.

    That may have been me.


    HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

  9. The Guv'ner Says:

    … were planning a big birthday uh…chicken surprise huh, Pixie?


  10. Chris Says:

    Would that have been the Pullet Surprise? What an honor!

  11. pistols at dawn Says:

    You said “pantsuits,” and now I’m all tingly. They are so flattering.

  12. The Guv'ner Says:


    I have a feeling Chris and Dagmar were celebrating last night with more than warm milk!

  13. The Guv'ner Says:

    Believe me Mr. POD, the word pantsuits makes me wanna hurl! But I was a little child with no say in the matter. A mere guinea pig for my mum’s “interesting geometric” creations. A pawn in her quest for international world domination with evil clothing. The seventies. Where taste went to die. The eighties. Where it finally bit it altogether.

  14. CDP Says:

    Apropros of nothing in this post, except the cluck…there’s a takeout place on the U of MD campus called Cluck U Chicken.

  15. The Guv'ner Says:

    CDP: I know!!! There’s actually one on Thompson Street in Greenwich Village, near my apartment, called PLUCK U. Which is even more EW! :):)

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: