Napoleon II ignores Geneva Convention rules by Bob Karolevitz Now we've got Napoleon Bony-Part II.
He's a nondescript attack rooster who may very well be an endangered species, if I have my way.
Each time I go into the coop to check on eggs or to refill the chicken waterer, that #@!*!!#+ bird blind-sides me with spurs that don't jingle jangle.
I keep forgetting he's there with his harem of hens, so his onslaught has always come as a surprise. But not any more!
Now I go into that arena fully armed, like a gladiator ready for battle. Napoleon II might just meet his match just like Napoleon I did when he made the mistake of attacking our son-in-law, Pat Garrity.
"Do you remember that rooster of yours?" Pat asked Phyllis one day. "Well, you don't have him any more!" he said before she could answer.
With a two by four Pat had sent that choleric cock off to the the Great Chicken Coop in the Sky. He should have known better than to charge that stubborn Irishman who just came by to do us a favor when we were away on a trip.
Phyllis doesn't want me to use the two by four method, though. "Just ignore him," she says, "and he'll leave you alone."
I tried that, but the irascible rooster didn't go for any of that detente stuff. He flew at me just the same.
"I ignored him just like you told me to," I explained to my peace-loving wife, "but he ambushed me when my back was turned. He doesn't fight fair."
Obviously there was no Geneva Convention as far as he was concerned.
"You must have antagonized him some way," Phyllis went on. "He's just trying to defend his lady friends."
"Defend, my eye!" I retorted. "He lunged at me when those hens couldn't have cared less. He was spoiling for trouble."
"Oh, he was just showing off," Phyllis continued. "You know how you guys like to do the macho thing to impress the girls. He wanted to strut his stuff and show the hens how virile he was."
"Well, if you'll just come to the coop with me, I'll show off for you and belt him a couple of times," I responded, my male ego suffering from her remark.
She would have none of that, though. "You're too thin-skinned some time," she said ever so sweetly. And I didn't know whether she meant my mental composure or the sore spot on my leg where Napoleon's spurs would have drawn blood if it weren't for the protection of my long johns.
Needless to say, I didn't have an ally in the house. That unfriendly chanticleer and I would have to work out our differences on the field of battle.
So now I gather eggs with all wariness of an infantryman on patrol. I keep an eye on that surly bird, and I'll sock him one with the cane I always carry if he comes at me with feathers flying and talons outstretched.
I've had it with Phyllis's peaceful ways. Napoleon Bony-Part II will show off one time too many, and I'll go looking for that two by four that Pat used.
Actually I think that rooster is too tough to go into a pot with a bunch of noodles, but I won't be thinking of chicken soup if he attacks me again.
I don't care what the animal rights people, the ACLU or Phyllis think. Napoleon and I will be going to the mat together, and I'm bigger than he is!
© 2001 Robert F. Karolevitz