This week I was going through some files and ran across a short story I wrote for my kids. It is a doozy I came up with to help them go to sleep. I don’t think it worked, but they enjoyed it so much they asked me to tell it again and again, then to write it down so it didn’t get lost to the hazy recesses of time and memory.
As I read it again this week, I shook my head and thought of how ridiculous it is - how impossible -but there is some truth to it if you’ve ever tried to get an old farm truck going, or have seen how baby chicks can easily go where their mama cannot. Anyway, I decided I’d like to share it with our readers. If you’re brave enough, maybe you could clip it out and read it to your own little ones or grandkids someday … Unlike digital files, you can do that with the newspaper, you know.
Well, you can see why I still shake my head over this stort: there’s definitely a bit of creative license here. Let me know if you enjoyed it anyway. If you have a simple short story or poem you’d like to share, feel free to send it as a letter to the editor.
Once upon a time there were some chicks who lived with their mother on a farm. Every morning Mr. Farmer came into their pen and poured corn into their feed pans. The chickens happily clucked and scratched at the corn off and on throughout the day.
One day, Mr. Farmer had to go to town early and didn’t come to the chicken pen. Six little chicks decided to quit waiting and get breakfast themselves.
Mother Hen said, “I want to go with you, but I can’t fit through the hole in the fence. Please be careful and hurry back.”
“We will, Mom,” the six young chicks chirped as they hurried through the hole in the fence.
“Which way should we go?” the first chick said.
“Mr. Farmer drives the feed truck from the shed over there,” said the second chick, pointing to the right with his small wing.
“Let’s go!” said the third little chick.
So the six chicks tottered to the shed and saw a big dump truck filled with corn. “That should give everyone lots of breakfast,” said the fourth chick.
“Yeah!” the fifth chick said. “I can’t wait to scratch some of that corn!”
The sixth chick said, “How do we get the truck to the chicken pen?”
They all thought for a minute until the third chick suggested they could climb up and drive the truck. Once all the chicks were inside, they realized they were too small to drive the truck alone.
“Now what do we do?” asked the fourth chick.
“Let’s work together,” said the first chick. He then directed the second chick to be in charge of the clutch, the third chick to work the brake pedal, the fourth chick to use the gas pedal, and the fifth and sixth chicks to move the gear shift. “I’ll turn the steering wheel,” said the first chick.
Soon there were six brave chicks in the dump truck ready to drive to the chicken yard.
“All ready?” asked the first chick.
Noticing one small problem, the fourth chick said, “Wait! How do we start the truck?”
“Oh,” said the first chick, “I didn’t think about that.”
A minute later he said, “I know! I’ll jump on the button that says, ‘START.’ Then I’ll tell you guys when to jump on the pedals and the gear shift. Okay?”
“Okay,” answered the rest of the chicks.
“Let’s go!” said the third chick.
“Ready, set, go!” said the first chick as he hopped on the start button.
“Gas!” he yelled, and the fourth chick jumped on the gas pedal, roaring the dump truck to life.
All the chicks chirped with excite-
ment.
The first chick directed the second chick to push the clutch, then for fifth and sixth chicks to move the gear shift to “R” so they could back the dump truck out of the shed. “Okay, now give it gas … and let go of the clutch!”
The truck lurched backwards and made an awful sound as it died, stopping in its tracks.
“What went wrong?” asked the fifth chick.
The first chick thought for a minute, then said, “I think we need to try to jump off the clutch slowly this time. Let’s try it again.”
“Clutch!” he yelled, then jumped on the START button again and said, “Gas!”
The dump truck roared to life again.
“Okay, now slowly let up the clutch and give it gas,” said the first chick.
The second and fourth chicks followed directions and soon the dump truck was moving backwards.
“Hurray!” the chicks chirped as the first chick jumped on the steering wheel to turn the truck to the right.
“Uh-oh! BRAKE! … CLUTCH!” said the first chick and the truck stopped just before it backed into a ditch.
“Whew! That was close,” the first chick said. He was the only one who could see out the window.
Feeling more confident, the first chick asked fifth and sixth chicks to put the gear shift into the “1” position. Then he gave directions for the second and third chick to let up on the brake and clutch pedals while the fourth chick carefully pushed the gas pedal.
Finally, the six brave chicks had the truck moving forward toward the chicken pen.
They stopped the truck just past the chicken pen and worked together to back it up to the fence. When the struck stopped again the first chick jumped on the button that said “DUMP” and the corn started pouring into the chicken’s yard. The six chicks hopped out of the truck and ran back over to the pen where Mother Hen clucked happily, scratching and pecking at her breakfast.
“Thank you, chicks,” said Mother Hen. “You were so smart and brave to get us our breakfast this morning.”
The six brave chicks shook their yellow downy feathers and chirped, “It wasn’t so hard. We just had to work together.”
Just then, they saw Mr. Farmer drive into the farmyard and climb out of his pickup.
Puzzled, he walked to the chicken pen and looked at the pile of corn behind the dump truck. “Hmmm,” he said as he took off his hat, paused a moment, and scratched his head. “I wonder how that happened?” he said.
The End.
