“Heart” / A Memorable Fancy #095

I watched as the chaplain held up the chicken.

“Take, O Lord, this living being.”

The chicken screamed and desperately flailed her wings. The chaplain held tighter.

“To be a humble and sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the depraved and indolent gathered here.” Taking our sins upon it, I suppose, our main sin being the end of an innocent life, but wasn’t that what we were here for?

“Lift up your heart!” said the chaplain to the chicken.

No one uttered the traditional response. In the back of the room, several ushers whispered among themselves, ignoring the ceremony. The chaplain held up a blade, cut open the chicken’s breast and fumbled for her heart, pulled it out laboriously, hoisted it upwards. The chicken twitched, shat on the chaplain’s robes, died.

The chaplain placed the heart on his portable altar. It took a few seconds for the heart to still and the chicken to become a bundle of feathers, two lifeless eyes.

“Amen,” said the chaplain to the chicken.

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