The other night Caz and I sat at the bar and a woman flagged down Muda (her South African "man friend") in the middle of her conversation with him. Our strange and instant response was to start doing the chicken dances? From Arrested Development? Caz fluffed her not-feathers and scratched the ground with her not-talons like a spastic peafowl and purr/growled at the other woman from our place across the bar. You know we're close friends and completely insane when we both did this without discussion or prior planning. Nope; spontaneous clucking and head bobbing. I don't in my right mind know what the hell is wrong with us, but it was pretty damn funny. The regular patrons, for sure, thought we were nuts. We were able moderately compose ourselves from debilitating laughter just as Muda returned to the conversation and wondered why we looked so suspicious/deranged. "What are you guys doing?" he asked hesitantly. "...We're being territorial." Caz said with a wide eyed dead-pan face. No explanation. He's learned to accept our strange manners. He's never going to take us out in public again after reading this.
So, of course, since then we can't stop doing our territorial chicken dance everywhere we go. Down the street, in Checkers, in the taxi, test driving a jeep, and walking Buddha. None of it seems complete without marking our territory, avian-dance-style.
Literally. Identical.
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