Jeffrey Zable
While eating a large chicken drumstick, I suddenly realized
that I was eating a once living thing, which made me feel a bit guilty
for a moment as I pictured it crammed in a cage only to be pulled out
by the neck and murdered soon after.
And then I felt glad that I hadn’t been born a chicken, even though
I didn’t feel glad that I’d been born a human either.
Settling back down to the chicken, I admit that I very much enjoyed it,
which I usually prefer barbecued over boiled or fried. . .