A Pair of Love-Chickens for my Sweetie

Shh...can you keep a secret? Here's what I'm getting Hick for Valentine's Day:

Hick loves him some chickens. He's a collector. That's a nicer term than hoarder, right? Two are ceramic, and one is resin. I found them at the hospital gift shop when I went to the lab to leave some blood on Thursday. That place always has a fantastic chicken collection. I bypassed the pewter-looking flat hen and rooster, and the large, more lifelike black and white resin varieties. Hick has several of those large ones already, in better colors.

I'm sure he'll take these down to his rustic cabin by the creek. You know, as opposed to his modern, glass-and-steel cabin. Duh. I think a cabin is, by definition, rustic.

Did you know that, depending on how you pose them, these chickens can be best buddies, strutting along, sharing secrets, on top of the world, or...

 

...in the middle of an uncomfortable confrontation. One is, perhaps, pointing the wing at his partner, laying blame for an unthinkable atrocity. Someone is not getting out of this mess with feathers unruffled.

I hope Hick has as much fun with them as I did this evening while he was gone to an auction. They are now safely ensconced under The Pony's bed, inside a plastic bag, wound individually in separate sheets of bubble-wrap. It's best that they don't stick their necks out during the chomping of the hot wing dip during the Super Bowl.

Hick and I are not exactly lovebird material. We're more like love-chickens.