Foghorn Leghorn Cooked to Perfection!

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I say, I say is it me or is it getting warm in here?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foghorn Leghorn, a large white adult leghorn rooster, has finally met his fate after years of strutting his stuff like he owned the world.

“Let’s just say Foghorn got what he deserved” said George P. Dog.

He was always riding me about something. Foghorn Leghorn always hated me. For what? I don’t know. Every time that I plant a seed he’d say “Kill it before it grows.” Freedom came my way one day and I started out of town. All of a sudden I saw Foghorn Leghorn aiming to shoot me down! Every day the bucket goes to the well. But one day the bottom will drop out! Yeah, that’s right. I just got sick of his white privilege so me and some of the other barnyard animals decided to do something about it.

That “something” being luring Foghorn into a trap where he was captured.

Foghorn was always bragging about his sexual abilities so we paid a hen to pretend she wanted to mate with him. She lured him into a barn. Foghorn gladly followed her since he thought he was going to get some. Instead we surrounded him and tied him down. He was surprised and said “I say, I say can’t a rooster get him some action anymore?” That’s when we started cutting off his body parts.

The first part cut off was, naturally, his penis.

Foghorn started to cry “No!  I say no! Not my penis!  Foghorn needs it to be a man!” We let the hen peck it off. Then she spit it out and said “That’s one less man thing! You’ll never sexually assault another hen again!” Granted we all hated him and wanted him dead but even we had a little sympathy for him. Poor bastard. But, a job’s a job so right back at it.

Foghorn’s legs and wings were cut off and grilled separately.

We did this on purpose. We grilled them right in front of him. We wanted him conscious so he could see it. I think he was resigned to his fate though he did keep saying “I say, I say I do smell delicious.”  He did smell delicious. It’s all about the glaze, you see.

Finally it was time to end Foghorn’s misery.

I looked right down at him and I said “Foghorn, you’ve oppressed this barnyard dog for far too long. You have been sentenced to death by the barnyard revolutionary committee for social justice. Do you have any last words?”  He just looked at me and said “Eat me!” I think he meant it as a curse and not a command. Whatever. I stabbed him in the breast and let the blood flow out. Then he was just right to cook. We glazed the breast as well. Glazed everything and then we all ate him. We ate him because we wanted to. We ate him for our brothers and sisters who could not eat him. We ate him for social justice. We ate him to end oppression.

Word of Foghorn’s brutal death traveled quickly throughout the barn community and many who were sitting on the fence joined the new revolutionary movement.

“The human is next. He will pay” vowed George P. Dog.

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One Response

  1. LSP says:

    It’s all in the glaze, don’t say FISA memo.

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