She lay there in the cramped quarters waiting for the end to come. The ears pricked as the door was gruffly opened and a menacing hand appeared in search of a neck, it really did not matter whose. A flurry ensued, as everyone tried to stay clear of those grizzly fingers, feathers flew, bodies crushed, wings torn, in the maniacal rush.

Somehow, she had enough and she edged closer towards the searching fingers, only to be brushed aside. Finally, a neck was gripped, the door creened further as the unwilling body was dragged behind the neck. After some frenetic bawling, there was a snap and all went hush again; both outside and within the cage.

I wish I could console the distressed chicken and tell her that my world is not much unlike hers. I too live in a frenzied world, that is all just bothered to save its own neck. If only she knew, there is little difference between the coop and the corporate.