The Story of Hans the Chicken Plucker
First Person:
My friends are looking at me strangely, and I realize I am humming an old country song. I am not usually in a good mood at work. Plucking chickens is not anyone's dream job. I pluck my last chicken, rinse it off, and toss it into the pile of naked chickens. Still humming those old country love songs because I have a date tonight. Wonder if I should shower? Nah.
Second Person:
Gossip flies through the factory like the feathers the workers pluck. No one can believe Hans has a date. The one with the beer belly and the tobacco dribble running down his chin. "Do you hear him humming? Sounds like a pig dying over there." Hey man, did you see Hans leave? Going on his date tonight. Poor ole gal, he didn't even wash his hands when he left. Look at him-picking flowers out of that poor old lady's yard.
Third Person:
Hans, with tobacco juice dribbling down his chin, stands over the pile of naked chickens . From her father's office, Layla can't take her eyes off of him. In her mind, Hans is the Prince Plucker who has come to rescue her. Deciding to finally make her dream come true she calls, "Hans-catch me!" With a glance over his shoulder, Hans sees Layla leap off the second story floor.
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