Last weekend, while walking home from brunch, we saw a large clump of Hasidic children milling around on a corner down the street from our building. As I’ve mentioned before, we live in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, which has one of the highest concentrations of Hasids in the country, so we often see families out and about. But a large pack of shouting, unruly boys – this is unusual. As we drew closer I could tell that they were unloading crates off of a truck. Crates of LIVE CHICKENS. Before I knew it there was a 10-year-old boy with sidecurls barreling toward me holding a squawking chicken by the wings. Behind me his mother yelled and he darted past.
All I could think was that those kids were in for one fucking fresh chicken.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
2 comments:
i remember when i was a young boy, and a box full of dirty chickens on a sunday afternoon was all i ever hoped for.
Post a Comment