Sparring and pecking.
Fighting and killing.
Sparring and pecking. |
Fighting and killing. |
A line was drawn and the cocks were pitted. They sparred and then got entangled. Rod and Alex pulled them apart and we amateurs asked what the problem was. Rod answered, "Oh, you're cock's got a spike stuck in his head's all."
Five times they pitted them, and five times Philo got perforated. It wasn't looking good, but there was a surprising lack of gore. At the fifth pitting, the other cock made a break for it, and I guess if that happens twice or something, the flighty cock loses by default.
Oh sweet default! We were still in the running. I was going home with a little girl's life savings. I'd frame her dollar with a picture of me posing with Philo the Victorious Cock. Sixth pitting, about 3 minutes from the first, Philo went down right quick and that was all she wrote. They broke it up, and Alex propped up Philo for the last pitting, but at the call of "Pit!" Philo just slumped over dead. Bill got excited and broke cock fight etiquette by walking into the fight we thought was over, and the winning cock got spooked and took off.
Alex hacked off Philo's legs, and yanked out some tail feathers so we could have something to show for our dough. Bill tried to crush Philo's head to make sure he was dead, but it didn't work so Rod picked him up by the head and swung him around laughing as the neck was broke. Emma cried because her friend the rooster died, but she still took my buck. Rhonda, the little girl's mom, made fun of her for crying.
We buried the legless Philo in a shallow grave with an empty can of Coors to keep him company throughout eternity and headed for home. Brad talked about how hot Rhonda was and how it was okay if they were to have sex 'cause they weren't related by blood. Just like spending a day trapped in the movie River's Edge.
