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CHICKEN KILLER

by Robert Spencer

He popped a bobcat with a two barrel shotgun.
He pulled both triggers and there wasn’t much left but a rug.
“Crazy thing bin gettin’ into my chickens.” he grinned.
We walked back across the yard with the temperature dropping
and the sun setting in the west.
His wife made pork chops.
They were the best I ever had.
We smoked, drank coffee, and talked about bobcats.