“That dang thing was just like a chicken. Boy Alvin, you should’a seen it! Its body kept flapping and spraying blood everywhere. Some even went in my mouth!” Joey said while proudly pointing at his mouth.
“Sick!” I said, trying not to gag, “Then, what happened?”
“Then it tumbled down the steps and when Mom and I got down to it, it already stopped moving.” Joey said imitating the dead bird.
“Gross, gross, and triple gross! So, did you guys bury it?” I asked.
Joey looked at me as though I had a gnarly booger hanging out of my nose.
“Noooooo, we didn’t bury it!” he grumbled, “Mom cooked it and we ate it!”
“No you didn’t!” I said doubtfully.
“Yeah huh!” he said nodding his head aggressively. “Mom, didn’t we eat that old goose that got in?”
“Oh no, you’re not telling him about that are you?” Beth said as she walked into the kitchen again.
“Why didn’t you tell me about that on the computer?” I asked him.
Beth answered for him, “Because I told him he didn’t need to send that sort of story to you.”