第8部分(第7/8 頁)

ey　were　all

chickens；　but　what　did　that　mean？　I　sure　didn't　want　him

ing　down　on　me　again；　but　it　still　didn't　make　sense。　Finally　I　asked　him；　“You　mean

there's　no　rooster？”

“Correctomundo。”

“How　can　you　tell？”

He　shrugged。　“Roosters　strut。”

“Strut。”

“That's　right。　And　look　—　none　of　them　have　long　feathers。　Or　very　much　of　that　rubbery　red

stuff。”　He　nodded。　“Yeah。　They're　definitely　all

chickens。”

That　night　my　father　got　right　to　the　point。　“So；　son；　mission　acplished？”　he　asked　as　he

stabbed　into　a　mountain　of　fettuccine　and　whirled　his

fork　around。

I　attacked　my　noodles　too　and　gave　him　a　smile。　“Uhhuh；”　I　said　as　I　sat　up　tall　to　deliver　the

news。　“They're　all　chickens。”

The　turning　of　his　fork　came　to　a　grinding　halt。　“And…？”

I　could　tell　something　was　wrong；　but　I　didn't　know　what。　I　tried　to　keep　the　smile　plastered

on　my　face　as　I　said；　“And　what？”

………　Page　26………

He　rested　his　fork　and　stared　at　me。　“Is　that　what　she　said？　‘They're　all　chickens’？”

“Uh；　not　exactly。”

“Then　exactly　what　did　she　say？”

“Uh　…　she　didn't　exactly　say　anything。”

“Meaning？”

“Meaning　I　went　over　there　and　took　a　look　for　myself。”　I　tried　very　hard　to　sound　like　this　was

a　major　acplishment；　but　he　wasn't　buying。

“You　didn't　ask　her？”

“I　didn't　have　to。　Garrett　knows　a　lot　about　chickens；　and　we　went