Sunday, February 28, 2010

Chef Nick, watch your back...


"Psssst, Chef Nick, the hens and me, we've been talking. In Sicily, chicks are more dangerous than shotguns. But the girls and me, we kinda like you, even though you dishonour us by talking about turning us into tikka masala or potpie or Buffalo wings. So Nick, cuz we like you, we're givin' you a little warning. Watch your back! It's not personal. It's business.

"Ya remember Happy Wombat Boy? What did we ever do to make him treat us so disrespectfully? If he'd come to us in friendship, then that scum that ruined his omelette would be suffering this very day. Instead, the Happy Wombat Boy, he laughed at us. He joked about how tasty the girls and me would be served up as kebabs with tzatziki sauce. He debated with you the merits of charmoula sauce atop fresh poultry. We liked the Happy Wombat Boy, but he just didn't know when to stop..."

" we stopped him. Dead."

"If anything in this life is certain, if history has taught us anything, it is that you can kill anyone. Especially if there are eleven of you with sharp claws and beaks. Remember that, Chef Nicky!"

"Happy Wombat Boy was coming to da farm for a visit, and I said to Charlotte, I said 'Hey, listen, I want somebody good - and I mean very good - to plant that gun. I don't want my sister coming out of that coop with just a duck in her hands, alright?'"

"I spent my whole life trying not to be careless. Chefs and children can be careless. But not hens."

Now somebody wipe dat dusty footprint off Wombat Boy's shirt before the FBI finds it."

"As you can see, the Happy Wombat Boy, he got his just desserts, so to speak. I don't like violence, Nick. I'm a layin' hen; blood is a big expense. But sometimes a hen's gotta do what a hen's gotta do."

"It's a sad thing. The Happy Wombat Boy, he could be a very nice man. He makes a mean meringue. But he just wouldn't stop with da chicken jokes. Now Happy Wombat Boy sleeps with the fishes.

"Henrietta, is it true? Did you have Happy Wombat Boy murdered?"

"Don't ask me about my business, Daddy-Gordon! What's the matter with you? Is this what you've become, some Hollywood finnochio that cries like a woman just because your friend was pecked to death by chickens?"

"We like you, Chef Nick. Watch your back. We don't want this to happen to you!"

"Henrietta,whatsa matter with you? I think your brain's goin' soft. … Never tell anybody outside the family what you're thinking again.
Nobody here but us chickens!"


  1. Don't mess with the clucko di tutti clucki!

  2. Anonymous2:44 pm

    HAhahah!!! now that's REAL dramer!! next you'll have them goils on the red carpet redy to receive their oscars!

    :D ... hahaha ... love Mr C in the background mourning .. or wondering what to do with the body.


  3. I has my guns. We's'll go to the mattresses if we needs to. There ain't no chicken messhuginah who's'll gonna indimidates me.

    Impressive, da show of black chicken bums. But ya AIN'TS CAN THREAT AGAINST DA CHEF!

    Da fake fotos, I seen thru dem. Dat ain't no dead man. Dat's a man who wants an egg!

    Do's me a favor and put lil' old Blackie aside for the Festivivitivities I's gonna has when I catches her.

  4. And dis time, I means it!

    . . . . *thought bubble* . . . . "How far . . ." . . ."from Montreal to Toronto . . ."

    . . . "Not so far . . ." . . . "Black chicken, owner already dead . . ."

    *gorgonzolamushroomcreamsaucewithamusebouche BLACKCHICKEN*

    I think I'll take my meds now.

  5. Anonymous3:46 pm

    Ha! That was great! Too bad the goils couldn't have pulled off the hit on St. Valentine's Day. Then they could have gotten some help from Al "Capon"---does youse get my drift?

  6. Chef Nick, you are still a bad, bad man. But you're so damn funny, it almost excuses it.

    I hear klonopin is good.

    The chickens iz waitin'!

  7. Aaaah, you knowses I don'ts really's wantses your chickenses.

    *But the idea of free-range birds from the farm of Natalie and Gordon Rowe fresh off the grill with mustard salsa certainly has occurred to me.*

  8. Shakespearian drama:

    To be or not to be a live Chef or Chicken!

  9. Jams, ya got that right!

    Dr. Sloth, I am picking out rhinestone chicken diapers for the girls' Academy award appearance.

  10. TTPT, if I had a rooster, I'd name him Al Capon. HAHAHA!

  11. Chef Nick, you're still evil. And it's Gordini Campbell, just FYI. To my father-in-law's horror, I did not take the family surname upon marriage. :)

  12. That does it. I'm having pork the rest of the week. Scary chickens.

  13. A wise decision, James. Unless of course the pigs are plotting too!


Thank you for all your comments, which I love to read!