The Curse of a Brain

Its another breezy afternoon, my legs kicked up in my hammock, a book transporting me to a land of familiarity. "Mira Tikän!" she shouts as she excitedly crawls up the porch to my house. The baby chicken head flops over Jessica's 7 year old hand, like a rag doll. "Noidgí lo pisò!" She says. I close my book and begin to stitch things together. The baby chicken, maybe a few weeks old, was stepped on by my 5 year old host sister however Jessica has usurped the rights to eat this feast and has excitedly arrived at my house to share the 20 grams of meat with me. "Bueno." I grunt, at this point used to eating hummingbirds and other birds who lost their lives to nourish a monster. "Si lo cocinas, yo voy a comer con usted." (All people are usted). She leaves. I return to my book, its fictional reality seeming more plausible than my own at the moment. Jessica returns. The naked chicken plucked of all its soft baby feathers and looks like a fried velociraptor. She rips of the head, smiles, and hands it to me. "Pa usted". Great. I take the head between my fingers, afraid if breaking its flimsy skill and inspect this delicacy. I wonder if its beak is edible, how the brains will settle on my tongue and if the skull will give the bite a crunchy texture. The meat around the skull looks quality if I could manage to nibble around the skull without getting cerebral fluid contamination and the eyes a small reminder off the birds short and simple life. "No voy a comer lo," I say to Jessica. Astonishment. But you est everything Tikän, she thinks. You ate that overly spicy, slimy, vegetable laden concoction called 'currí' and carrots raw and coffee without sugar but you wont est this delicious pollosito brain I've so nicely prepared for you? Astonishment turns to disappointment. How dare you refuse this calorie rich, freshly killed, carefully cooked, delicacy of bird brain I brought to your lazy, always studying self. Disappointment to redemption. "I'm telling abuela." She says aloud and takes off running. The baby chicken head is still in between my fingers, its expressionless beak mocking my reasoning. I throw it to the dog and without a moments hesitation the dog eats the morsel of meat.