Grrface wrote:
Story time!
My parents live on about an acre lot, and my dad decided that he wanted to have chickens. Still does, actually. Anyway, we had a batch of chickens that had been fattened up, and it came time to butcher them. The only problem is, they do that annoying flap after their throat is cut thing. So, my dad, being the man of ingenuity that he is, found a solution: nail a traffic cone upside down to a pole, cut the tip off the cone, and place chicken headfirst into the cone. Slit throat, chicken can't flap around, nothing. My friends now walk by that cone when we're over at my parents' and refer to it as "THE CONE OF DEATH."
The end.
I wish we had a goddamn cone of death. Nope, all we had was my pussy ass brothers holding the goddamn wings. I'd pick the brain (they would be completely dead at this point, everything else was involuntary natural moment), and then slit the throat to allow for bleeding out. They were supposed to hold that shit. Noooooooo, they'd puss out and say the dead chicken was to strong, and Joe would get a face full of blood, brain, and other chicken matter. They were tasty, but fuck that shit, I'm not getting a mouthful of chicken guts ever again.










