Pancakes for Breakfast

A short Story.

Pancakes for Breakfast Word Count 1,337
By Michael Humphreys
        During the summers Mike spent his school vacation at his Grandparents� farm. This summer was no different in many ways, but Mike was older now and had more responsibilities. He was old enough now to help with farm chores, and was up long before daylight to help Grandma and Grandpa. The morning routine was always the same: Get up and make the bed, wash up and be sure to get behind his ears (Grandma would ask), go into the kitchen and set the table for breakfast. On one particular morning things went a bit differently than normal. When Mike walked into the kitchen Grandma said, �Mike would you go to the hen house and gather some eggs? I sold all we had left to the Watkins Man last evening and I don�t have any left for breakfast.�
        This was not normal because the eggs were not gathered until later in the morning. Mike told his grandma, �Sure Grandma�, and went into the pantry to get the old Eveready flashlight that was kept there so he could see his way along the path that led from the house to the barnyard. The chicken coop, a very smelly and oh so dark shack, was where the chickens roosted every night to protect them from varmints and things that meant them harm.
        As Mike went out the back door his grandma hollered, �Mike don�t forget the basket.� Of course he had, and went back in to get it. As he stepped back onto the back porch he turned on the old Eveready flashlight and as usual it didn�t come on. Mike didn�t really think too much about it, after all it was a cheap flash light that came with the batteries when you bought two in a pack. Mike just sat the basket on the porch rail and twisted the lens cap a few times and smacked the flashlight in his palm a few times until it came on. A weak beam of light shown out of the flashlight, but another smack and he had a good strong beam of light.
        Mike stepped off the porch onto the path that led into the darkness. It was very dark indeed. So dark that Mike could see nothing outside of the cone of light projected by his cheap Eveready flashlight. The path, worn down into the ground by thousands of trips to the barn and out buildings, was like a ribbon of white in a sea of black. It wound its way under the big ash tree in the backyard and on into the blackness.
        Mike reached the barnyard gate and passed through into the working part of the farm. The barn and cattle pens were on one side and the hay barn and tractor shed were on the other. There was no path now because the cattle kept the ground all churned up with their hooves. Mike went toward the back of the barnyard where the chicken coop leaned into the wind. The chicken coop was surrounded by a high �chicken tight� fence and sat right in the middle of the yard. The coop itself was a very old one room shack that did lean precariously to one side. Inside along one whole wall were boxes stacked on top of one another four high. These were for the chickens to lay their eggs in, and the objective of Mike�s trip to gather the eggs. The door to the coop was low and a person had to stoop to enter. Opposite the egg laying boxes, occupying two thirds of the space inside the coop was the rungs of the roost streching from floor to ceiling. Here was where the chickens climbed to spend the night.
        As mike reached the chicken yard gate he could see the coop leaning in the dark and he could hear the hens clucking and flapping their wings moving about. This was unusual but mike didn�t think much about it. He passed through the gate and as he approached the coop he could smell the acrid odor from the manure that built up under the roost. Mike stooped through the door and into the chicken coop. He began reaching into the laying boxes in search of the eggs that had been laid since the last gathering. As he did he swung the light from the Eveready up onto the roost and there were the hens piled one on top of the other, hen on top of hen, on top of hen, all scrunched up in the very top corner of the roost . Something was wrong. Mike looked around and could see nothing until he shown the light up onto the rafters of the coop which were just eye level if he stood up straight. As he turned around the light picked up the beady eyes of the biggest chicken snake Mike had ever seen.
        At that moment the cheap Eveready flashlight decided to quit. Mike threw the basket down and scrambled up the roost as fast as he could. There he was on top of the roost with hens on top of hens on top of Mike. He was twisting the lens cap and smacking that Eveready flashlight for all he was worth.
        The hens were very nervous and so was Mike and neither of them knew what to do. They just sat there in the dark wondering where that chicken snake was. Mike didn�t know that chicken snakes only ate chicken eggs. He hated snakes, any kind of snake. Mike was frozen with fear but the chickens complained loudly not only about the snake but because mike was chunking chickens down the roost. If it was chickens that the snake wanted Mike was willing to give him one or two.
        Grandpa, a grizzled old farmer, was just then in the barn feeding the milk cows getting ready for grandma to milk. Hearing the commotion in the hen house, he stepped out of the barn and called to Mike, �Son what are you doing out there?� He got no answer so he headed that direction. Grandpa didn�t have a flashlight but he didn�t need one either. He had trod this ground from the time he was a very small child. He reached the chicken yard gate and went into the yard. He wondered as he crossed the yard why there was no light in the chicken coop.
        Grandpa reached the chicken coop and stepped inside. �Mike are you in here?� Just then the Eveready flashlight decided to come on and it shown down the roost onto Grandpa. Grandpa looked up at Mike perched there with the chickens and just burst out laughing. Well Mike and the chickens didn�t like that much after all they knew what was down there. They were not about to tell grandpa about the snake now.
        The snake, in the meantime, had slithered down till it was just behind grandpa�s head. When grandpa stopped laughing he turned toward the door and came eye to eye with that huge chicken snake. Grandpa was halfway up the roost when he heard Mike and the chickens laughing so hard they were just about to fall off their perch. Of course Grandpa was not happy at being laughed at and climbed back down the roost. He grabbed the chicken snake by the head and took it out of the coop to dispose of it. As soon as Grandpa had the snake outside the chickens and Mike poured out of the chicken coop. The chickens scattered in the yard and Mike headed for the gate. Mike was out the gate, thru the barnyard, thru the barnyard gate, and at a dead run hit the path to the house. Mike ran all the way in the house and up to the kitchen table. He sat down and Grandma asked, �Mike where are the eggs?�
Mike said, �Grandma the hens weren�t layin and I wasn�t gatherin!�
Instead, they had pancakes for breakfast.
The End

Reviews

[Windy]

Cute story, I loved the vision of Mike and the chickens up on the roost and then laughing a grandpa when he got up there too. We had chickens when I was growing up and I HATED gathering eggs, your description of what it is like it right on. Brought up some old memories... I dont' eat eggs much at all these days LOL. Thought you did a good job with the story & the imagery. It was a fun read. ;)