A Chicken (sort of) Story
About 10 years ago I was in West Virginia visiting my youngest daughter and son-in-law, Tommy. His brother had died and I accompanied Tommy to his brother Andy's house for some purpose that eludes my memory.
The house was in a "hollar" 4 or 5 miles down a winding 1 lane gravel road cut from the side of the mountains (15 mph seemed to be a break-neck speed). When we got there, I thought, "Lord, what a dump". It had all the accouterments of a proper backwoods West Virginia mountain shack. Piles of trash, weeds, falling down out buildings, peeling paint, etc. There was a small clearing with 20+ plastic 55-gallon drums with holes cut in the side and fighting cocks staked out by each one.
We went in and I was amazed at the filth. In the kitchen, I looked down at the linoleum floor and there were streaks of what appeared to be blood on the floor. I commented that it looked like someone had been slaughtering hogs there. Tommy said it was probably from slaughtering deer. This was in June. Deer season ended in January.
Tommy then told the story of being at his Andy's house when the county sheriff came in investigating something or other. While talking to Andy, the sheriff commented about the chickens wandering around the house and perched on the backs of the couch and chairs.
Andy responded "Well, it's got to the point where they probably drag out more than they drag in".
Tommy inherited the house. I went out there and spent about a couple of months remodeling the inside. I built a set of cabinets for the kitchen. When we finished, you would never know a chicken (or deer) had ever graced the threshold.
A couple of years later, they divorced and she moved out. The house reverted to a filth hole within less than a year.
John
About 10 years ago I was in West Virginia visiting my youngest daughter and son-in-law, Tommy. His brother had died and I accompanied Tommy to his brother Andy's house for some purpose that eludes my memory.
The house was in a "hollar" 4 or 5 miles down a winding 1 lane gravel road cut from the side of the mountains (15 mph seemed to be a break-neck speed). When we got there, I thought, "Lord, what a dump". It had all the accouterments of a proper backwoods West Virginia mountain shack. Piles of trash, weeds, falling down out buildings, peeling paint, etc. There was a small clearing with 20+ plastic 55-gallon drums with holes cut in the side and fighting cocks staked out by each one.
We went in and I was amazed at the filth. In the kitchen, I looked down at the linoleum floor and there were streaks of what appeared to be blood on the floor. I commented that it looked like someone had been slaughtering hogs there. Tommy said it was probably from slaughtering deer. This was in June. Deer season ended in January.
Tommy then told the story of being at his Andy's house when the county sheriff came in investigating something or other. While talking to Andy, the sheriff commented about the chickens wandering around the house and perched on the backs of the couch and chairs.
Andy responded "Well, it's got to the point where they probably drag out more than they drag in".
Tommy inherited the house. I went out there and spent about a couple of months remodeling the inside. I built a set of cabinets for the kitchen. When we finished, you would never know a chicken (or deer) had ever graced the threshold.
A couple of years later, they divorced and she moved out. The house reverted to a filth hole within less than a year.
John
