So, I come home from work and parked outside my house, I see this truck with chickens in the back:

I figure it belongs to the neighbor next door and I shrug it off. But I snap a picture since it’s kinda odd in the middle of a Seattle Summer.

The next day, I’m working at my computer–It’s my day off, so I’m just lazing about half way dressed–and suddenly there’s a knock on the door.
This is strange because people don’t just drop by uninvited to my house.
I’m shocked, so I just go and answer the door without bothering to put a shirt on or fix my hair.

On my porch is this lady all dressed up like a park ranger, hat and all, with a badge that says she’s from animal control.
“I’m here about your chickens.” She says.
I temporarily forget that I saw the chickens the day before and I’m so confused I just say, “What…chickens?” in my most innocent sounding voice. I suddenly realize that I’m standing there looking like a typical white trash chicken housing lunatic, with my plaid boxers sticking out of my pants and no shirt on to cover my pasty white boy chest. My hair looks like the lead singer of Flock of Seagulls in the height of a cocaine binge. And I’m trying to play off like I don’t know anything about chickens. I start to fumble with the door knob and look back into my house and I get the strange sense that she thinks I’m hiding something.
“Oh, wait, those chickens,” I remember. “Those aren’t mine. I think they belong to my neighbor next door. I saw them in their truck yesterday.”
“Your neighbor said they were your chickens.” she retorts.
“Ah,” I’m sure I look totally mystified as I am really not quite certain what to say next. “um…I don’t own a truck.” My hand instinctively goes to my head for a scratch–I’m hoping to get across the international sign for, “I’m confused” so she will take her accusatory look away.
“Well, we had someone phone in a complaint and we were concerned because it sounded like they were being kept in a small container and were left in the afternoon sun.”
“Right, that’s how it looked to me…”
A bit of a silence.
“Well, let us know if you see them again.” She hands me her card and I thank her.
“Sure, yeah…will do.”
I don’t think she ever realized that I was innocent.