You’re Fired

“Melinda.”

My eyes opened slowly. I saw Mama smiling down at me. I smiled, and she said, “Hurry up and get dressed so you can feed the chickens.” I hated feeding the chickens. It was my worst job. The chickens were a sticky sort.

I touched the ground with my feet and went downstairs to help Mama.

When I came downstairs, I heard Johnny reading Mama the newspaper.

“Spring of 1873, cotton prices continue to rise. Farmers hoping for a good year . . .”

Suddenly, in the middle of reading, there was a loud and unusual squawking from the chickens.

“I wonder what that is,” Mama said.

We all ran out to see a stranger chasing the chickens, trying to catch one. When he saw us, he quickly ran off. Johnny ran to catch him with Mama on his heels. I hitched up my dress and ran off after them. The chickens were squawking and cackling and flapping their wings furiously. Mama, Johnny, and I were yelling our heads off saying, “Stop! Come back here! Wait! Hold your horses!”

Johnny got close enough to grab the strange boy’s suspenders and he pulled him back. Over breakfast we tried to figure out what the boy wanted with our chickens. He explained that he was starving. My dad explained to the boy that there was an easier way to get food and offered him a job caring for the chickens. That was the day I was “fired” from that job. It couldn’t have been a happier day.