Strong-arming the law

All this trouble just because one stupid chicken can’t shut up. Yesterday day I got a call from a little bespectacled man with a bad complexion. I couldn’t see him, but he certainly sounded like a geek, so I am sure my description isn’t too far off the mark. The caller said his name was Kisembo and he was Sidney’s attorney. He sounded quite full of himself.
When I called him a smarmy pint of droppings, he was unfazed. He continued to smarm at me about how he could get a court injunction restricting me from yadda yadda. In essence he said, “Stop beating my client’s face in every morning because you’re in a bad mood. The man cannot afford to lose any more teeth.”

“Or what?” I asked. It was the natural question.

“Or I shall have to file for (some more legal yadda yadda.)”

I asked Kisembo if he knew anything about poultry control. There was a pause at the other end before he sighed audibly.

“Don’t tell me. Neighbour’s got a rooster.”

“Plural. Roosters.”

I could almost sense the tension on the other end of the phone as the little man battled with his conscience. He was a lawyer, and that meant he was not supposed to give free advice ever. But then it is hard to just sit back and watch another man suffer (unless it’s Sidney). Finally he blurted out: “Poisonedmaizecobsjustleavethemscatteredaroundtheyard!” and he hung up.

Hmmm.