 It's hard to tell, but his hat says "Cock Fight." These are the tools of the trade. |
It's hard to tell, but his hat says "Cock Fight." These are the tools of the trade. |
Pointed the car towards Riverbank slowing to check out the bitching Camaros and Firebirds for sale because Bill wants to buy one with the Flaming Chicken painted on the hood. We hit a McDonald's so Brad could call his cousin to let him know we were almost there. Alex thought we were coming down another day, but said he'd set up a cockfight. Brad pissed on the McDonald's pay phone in front of families feasting at the breakfast burger trough when he was down.
We pulled up to the house with the trailer sitting in front. Alex came out wearing a baseball cap that had "Cock Fight" with a picture of a rooster on it. A Christmas gift from his mom.
We went to the backyard to see his thousand dollar cock. He moved the others to Gramp's place. Neighbors had complained enough that the cops finally sent a letter telling him he had to move 'em or lose 'em. But the thousand dollar one was too valuable to leave unguarded. Alex introduced his friendly dog, "That there's Red Dog, just kick it a coupla times if it jumps on you."
In the front yard, Alex showed us a beaten black leather case held the tools of the trade: an assortment of ice-pick like gaffs, knives, sharpening stones, a caffeine pill, string, and bits of cloth that are wrapped around the cock legs to make sure the gaffs are seated snugly and comfortably.
