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When I was a kid my great-grandfather would buy about 500-600 chicks every year. Of course we'd lose about half to the hot Alabama heat right away. The remaining chicks would be allowed to grow, reproduce and do whatever else they were good for, like lay eggs.
Then, after I'd named about half and considered them pets would come slaughtering day. I still vividly remember my great-grandmother - not so much my great-grandfather - with a hatchet chopping off heads while around her feet danced and flopped headless birds.
Then, if this weren't bad enough, the cleaning would begin, then the freezing. Follow this with every day, Every day, at least twice a day, we'd eat chicken until they were gone or the next batch of chicks came home.
Fried chicken; baked chicken; boiled chicken; stewed chicken; roasted chicken; barbecued chicken... you get the picture, right?
Couple all this chicken eatin' with eggs Every morning, usually fried, and boiled eggs sometimes throughout the day, and I - after I no longer lived with them, they were next door to our house - would not touch eggs or chicken for years and years!
It took me until late adult-hood to get to the point where I would eat chicken again. Even today I have to be in the mood for it, and the mood only comes around once or twice a month at the most!
Eggs? No, not if I can help it.
With memories like that it's no wonder I'm so screwed up.
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