Skywalker sweated inside his chicken suit. He had just finished his first full season at Michigan and had been thrilled to be offered a commercial spot. Now, he was wondering if helping to pay off his student loans had been worth it.
“Why am I doing this again?” he asked his dad.
“Because you love fried chicken,” his dad replied. “And also, you signed a contract to do it.”
“But I feel silly. Also, wouldn’t people be turned off from eating chicken if a chicken talks to them?”
“I have no idea. I’m just here for moral support. And to take pictures.” His dad grinned at his son and took out his phone. “Now, cluck like you just scored a touchdown in a hail mary pass to win the game.”
Luke was saved by the booming voice of the commercial director.
“Skywalker! It’s your scene!”
Luke glowered at his dad. “I only love fried chicken because you love fried chicken.”
“I know; isn’t it great? And we’ll get unlimited free fried chicken for years to come!”
Luke did not appreciate his dad’s enthusiasm as he waddled onto the set.
“Okay Luke,” shouted the director. “And….action!”
In the chicken suit, Luke threw a perfect spiral off screen. He then turned to the camera and, with a pained smile, said “Usually, I’m on the field throwing the pig skin. But when I’m off the field, I love catching me some chicken skin!”
Someone threw him an entire fried chicken. As he caught it, some of the grease splashed onto his clothes.
“Now you can too! Come on down to Cluckity Farms and ask for the Skywalker special! Two whole birds for the price of one!”
Another chicken was thrown at him. He caught this one with less finesse.
“It’s cluckin’ great!”
The second chicken slid out of his hand and made a sad “splat” on the floor.
“Cut!” shouted the director. “Great job Luke, I think we got it!”
“Thanks,” said Luke. “I’m going to go home then.”
“Take some chicken to go?” asked an assistant, holding up bags of fried chicken and what looked to be buckets of French fries.
“I’m good,” replied Luke dejectedly, but his dad eagerly grabbed the bags and grinned at his son.
“C’mon, Luke. Wait until you’re in the ISFL. I bet you’ll never have to wear a chicken suit again!”
“I cluckin’ hope so,” said Luke. He peered into the bag. “Ooooh, coleslaw!”
408 words
“Why am I doing this again?” he asked his dad.
“Because you love fried chicken,” his dad replied. “And also, you signed a contract to do it.”
“But I feel silly. Also, wouldn’t people be turned off from eating chicken if a chicken talks to them?”
“I have no idea. I’m just here for moral support. And to take pictures.” His dad grinned at his son and took out his phone. “Now, cluck like you just scored a touchdown in a hail mary pass to win the game.”
Luke was saved by the booming voice of the commercial director.
“Skywalker! It’s your scene!”
Luke glowered at his dad. “I only love fried chicken because you love fried chicken.”
“I know; isn’t it great? And we’ll get unlimited free fried chicken for years to come!”
Luke did not appreciate his dad’s enthusiasm as he waddled onto the set.
“Okay Luke,” shouted the director. “And….action!”
In the chicken suit, Luke threw a perfect spiral off screen. He then turned to the camera and, with a pained smile, said “Usually, I’m on the field throwing the pig skin. But when I’m off the field, I love catching me some chicken skin!”
Someone threw him an entire fried chicken. As he caught it, some of the grease splashed onto his clothes.
“Now you can too! Come on down to Cluckity Farms and ask for the Skywalker special! Two whole birds for the price of one!”
Another chicken was thrown at him. He caught this one with less finesse.
“It’s cluckin’ great!”
The second chicken slid out of his hand and made a sad “splat” on the floor.
“Cut!” shouted the director. “Great job Luke, I think we got it!”
“Thanks,” said Luke. “I’m going to go home then.”
“Take some chicken to go?” asked an assistant, holding up bags of fried chicken and what looked to be buckets of French fries.
“I’m good,” replied Luke dejectedly, but his dad eagerly grabbed the bags and grinned at his son.
“C’mon, Luke. Wait until you’re in the ISFL. I bet you’ll never have to wear a chicken suit again!”
“I cluckin’ hope so,” said Luke. He peered into the bag. “Ooooh, coleslaw!”
408 words
