Chicken Do-Pyaza

"Here, take the knife. Just slice through the neck. Hold on, why is your hand shaking?"

"But Dad, this is a living thing we are talking about. How can I chop its neck off with a steady hand?"

"Living thing? Son, it was you who wanted to have Chicken Do-pyaza. Where do you think the chicken comes from? Does it grow on a tree?"

"Couldn't we just go to a butcher and get some chicken?"

"Son, we are miles from anywhere. There are no butchers here, or a supermarket. You have to butcher your own chicken."

"Couldn't we just ask the village lady who sold us the chicken to butcher it?"

"You nag worse than a woman. And, you want a woman to butcher your chicken because you are afraid? Come on, be a man! Ok. You are afraid to cut the neck. Then, just hold it. I will cut the neck. Now what? Can't you even hold it properly?"

"But Dad, I am still participating in its killing. When it resists being held, I think I am taking its life against its will."

"Are you turning into a vegetarian then? No? Then why have such double standards. You are going to eat the dead bird any way. Then, why the hell can't you help me butcher it. All right, just get lost. I will take care of it. You wimp. City education just destroys your ability to survive in the wild."

A little later...

"Here you go. All chopped up and nicely dressed. I fed the entrails to the dogs. Will be ready for dinner in thirty minutes."

"Thanks dad! Sorry, I was not brave enough to even stand and watch."

"No problem son. The village lady was just walking by. She volunteered to hold the chicken while I would butcher it. Turns out, she is so used to doing this that she just held it with one hand and whacked its head off. I didn't have to do a thing. Of course, I tipped her ten bucks for helping me out!"