A Hint of Urban Fantasy

The chicken raised its neck and shrieked at my touch, leaping from the counter with a flail of stubby wings and a raucous clatter of pans.

Lest you think I am in the habit of molesting innocent poultry, I would say in my defense that the bird in question was apparently dead at the time I reached in for its giblets.  As in, decapitated, de-feathered, and on its way to de-liciousness after I'd gotten it stuffed into the oven. 

( The animated bird continued to caper on stumpy drumstick-legs, spreading salmonella all over my kitchen... )