It was a cold January morning. The leaves had fallen long ago, leaving the trees bare and forlorn. The air was dry, making the sunless day colder, bleaker and dim. The sky was the same dull grey it had been since the beginning of October.

The current day began with no significance. John began his daily ritual with no peculiarities. He woke up precisely at 7:30 a.m., trudged into his parent’s kitchen and poured his daily coffee into his “World’s Best Son” mug. He counted his three hundred Cheerios and ate them in his red bowl with half a cup of 1% low fat milk. 

  John, a portly fellow, and at a riping age of 42, is what tender people would call special. His doctor and mother would say this as well in the presence of John. But in reality, John is mentally retarded. His mind was slower than others, his mother explained it to him that way. John’s mother claimed her child had an extra chromosome that nobody else in town had. Of course, John didn’t understand any of this but he lived a happy life. People thought him strange but everyone went out of their way to be nice to poor old John. 

  A part of John’s life was his daily bike rides. No matter the weather anyone could find John zooming by on his bright red bicycle down Cherokee Lane all the way to the south side of town. John put on the corny Christmas sweater his mother had made for him the year before and began his ride.

  The day was cold and bitter. The houses looked nearly exactly alike, with triangular roofs and white painted doors. Very few people were out. An old man was steering his horses into the main section of town. He glanced at John but didn’t give him much thought.

  Up ahead, John saw a chicken crossing the road. He thought about how his mother would cook chicken. an idea came to mind. He would capture the chicken and give it to his mother so she can make him a delicious meal.

  Unfortunately, John wasn’t the only one with an extra chromosome, As John chased the chicken it jumped into a manhole left over from World War One. “NO!!!!” John exclaimed and got onto all fours and leaned into the hole. He could hear clucking. “Cluck…Cluck…Cluck…” It was getting louder. he reached in farther. Then he felt feathers and he tried to grasp onto them. Something took hold of his hand and began to pull on John. He screamed when he saw the face of something unknown. Was it man? Or Chicken?

  “CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK!!!!!” the thing said and laughed hysterically. John’s screams echoed throughout the town. Then all was silent like the insignificant dull grey morning…and that is the legend of John and the Chicken Man