Thursday, January 11, 2007

Chicken ala King, Egyptian Style

The saga ends. Today, we entombed King Kluck.

According to our book, the mummification process takes about 40 days. In the dry Egyptian heat, perhaps. In double baggies in a cool garage in Northern Virginia, the process is slightly longer...if by "slightly" you mean months.

And, got to admit, the salt hasn't been changed in a month. After awhile, the project just sort of lost its charm...

This week, we learned about King Tut, and I decided it was the perfect time to put an end to the Kluck who would be King. The boys were enthusiastic--"Yay! We're getting rid of King Kluck."

Then I told them they had to participate. "Oh, it doesn't smell so bad," I cajoled, but they weren't buying it.

Again, Mom handled the gross stuff, so while they prepared the sarcophagus and took photos, I pulled the fearsome fowl out of its bags and wiped off the salts. The smell had gone into stealth mode, lulling us into a false sense of security ("Hey! It really doesn't smell so bad!") then leaping out to attack our noses like a crazed cobra. Nonetheless, we soon had him wrapped in linen with the following trinkets tucked inside:
--a safety pin for, well, safety
--a coin and jewels for wealth
--a match and candle for light and warmth
--sea shells for the ocean it probably never saw
--a Chuck E Cheese ticket for fun
Next we wrapped him in foil to represent a golden tomb. He looked like a football and the next few minutes were spent trying to keep my merry mummy-makers from chucking the cluck around the room. Of course, Alex still wanted nothing to do with the odoriferous object, which meant Liam was only to glad to shove it under his nose. (Something I never thought I'd have to say: "Quite teasing your brother with the mummified chicken!") Nonetheless, we got him safely in his box, which only yesterday brought us a Neopet from E-bay.

"Hey, Mom. Can we sell him on E-bay?" Liam, my 6-year old entrepreneur, asked.

I started to protest, then thought about the Virgin Mary cheese sandwich and the Jesus potato. At least we wouldn't be saying ours was divine. (In fact, I can't think of anything less divine.)

So I told the kids if Dad will make an account, we can stick King Kluck on it.

Maybe I should go back and see if I can mold its corrupted flesh into a likeness of Elvis.

Addendum: Rob says E-Bay is no long accepting decaying-food-related items. Maybe they caught a scent of what was coming!

Liam, don't tease your brother with the mummified chicken!

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