The chicken incident I was a traveller in those days, doing researches for a book I intended to write but actually it has never been written. It was about that time when the Lone Star State got annexed to the US and I remember the enormous heat that was omnipresent when I travelled down there in mid-summer. It was a long and strenuous way, but in the end I hoped the fame and wealth I was supposed to earn with my book would be worth the efforts. Back then I had the idea to write a biography on Bob “The Butcher” McCoy who was a fighter for right and justice and well-known all over America for his uncountable victories against villains who have threatened his hometown which was located somewhere between Amarillo and Lubbock. He was lawless but still had a strong sense of justice. McCoy was of unknown age and generally considered as an altruistic hero, he unselfishly risked his own life many, many times for the citizens and to keep the unusual peaceful atmosphere in his town. It was his merit that people even in the most distant places knew his town to be the safest, neatest and prettiest one all over America. Not many people lived there, but those who did were definitely happy people. The terms crime and violence were not familiar to them as for many decades they have been protected by their guardian Bob “The Butcher” McCoy. When I reached the town after having been seated in a very uncomfortable stage coach for more than one week, herded into a couple of sweating gamblers and merchants I was relieved and surprised simultaneously – I could smell the clean air, small bright houses along Main Street made the town appear very peaceful and almost idyllic. I could see a saloon, a bank, a barber shop, a few stores and – something that caught my eye – a brothel. It did indeed take me a few minutes to get myself out of the conflict of whether or not make a little visit, but eventually I remembered my actual aim - searching for the living legend McCoy and write the best book ever published. I honourably passed by the indeed very inviting doors of “Mary-Ann’s Secret Pleasures” and started to look for a neat room to stay at for the next few days or weeks. I found a very nice place to stay: cheap, clean and tremendously comfortable. I took a step outside and went asking the first person if a certain McCoy was living near here. Near the market place I saw a little girl skipping with her rope, playing on a dusty road. I gave her a sticky peppermint I had just discovered in my pocket and generously offered it to her – she took it gratefully. “Do you know a Mr. McCoy, little lady?” I asked with the nicest smile one could imagine. She grinned and pointed to an old man on a porch belonging to a whitish house. He sat in a rocking chair and looked content – people who passed by him said hello and he smiled back. I said to the little girl: “McCoy, the living legend. I’m looking for him!” The little girl showed me her tongue and ran away. That didn’t harm my courage and I walked on to a man who looked more solemn. “I’m searching for a certain Bob McCoy. He’s supposed to live here.” The man replied: “Just go to that whitish house over there, don’t forget to knock loud!” This was the second person kidding me and I started to become a bit angry at the citizens. But maybe this was their way of getting rid of tourists. I looked over to the old man sitting at his porch and thought I could as well ask him. “Hello Sir”, I said, “Please where can I find Bob McCoy? The living legend of your very beautiful town?” The old man gave me a toothless smile, then looked away. I tried it again, this time even a bit louder: “Excuse me, I’m looking for Bob McCoy, tall, blonde, the guardian of you town, you surely remember!” Some people walking by turned around and stared at me due to the fact that I almost screamed at the poor old man. I blushed a bit. “T’ is me.” was all he said. I smiled at him and felt a very deep compassion for this bewildered old dodderer. The senile man seemed confused and got shaky. “T’is me!” he croaked and due to his scary voice I shuddered. The man nervously tried to get up off his rocking chair, but I was faster. Quickly I rushed away. “His brain must be as rotten as his teeth!” I murmured. What a crazy town this was! Stupid children, mean businessmen and senile mental cases who think they can make strangers believe they are living legends. Slowly I saw my book and the connected success fade away – now I’d need a drink. The saloon nearby was the greatest I’ve ever seen, but I didn’t really pay attention to the furniture, or the large amount of alcohol there. – The only thing my eyes could see was an amazingly wonderful red-headed woman standing behind the bar. I knew she would be mine, I’d have rather be dead than being without her. With a strong determination I made my way towards her and ordered a scotch on the rocks with the most masculine voice one can expect from me. She smiled at me with her perfect mouth and that special spark in her eyes and I felt as if I have just been new-born. Her name was Joanne. I can’t remember how I got there, but the next morning I woke up next to her. She must have loved me as much as I loved her since she invited me for dinner and wanted me to stay for longer. But I told her that it was my inevitable duty to find McCoy. She understood and showed me where to find him – out of her window she pointed to a whitish house nearby the market place and tears filled my eyes. “How old is McCoy? Approximately?” I carefully asked. “I really don’t know, but he must be around ninety. He’s pretty old but the people can’t imagine a life without him. His reputation safes our little peaceful town.” Joanne said. I fainted. When I got back my consciousness I realised that I could as well give up my dreams – it was not possible for me to write a book about an almost bald senile hero who supposedly could not even stand a single breath of wind. No proud American would ever want to read that! People need to identify with legends, not laugh about them. Joanne has put her arms around my chest and told me she would stay with me forever, no matter if I was famous or poor. We went to the saloon and that night I got so drunk that I cannot remember what I did or said. I, however, woke up in my comfortable hotel room with a terrible headache. I got up as I have noticed a strange noise coming from outside, so I walked to the window. Much to my surprise there was a parade going on with celebratory decorated carriages. A sign at the very first wagon read “45th McCoy’s Day” and I couldn’t believe what I saw: Right on top of the first wagon the old senile dodderer I tried to speak with yesterday sat and waved to the crowd who threw red roses to him. I somehow liked the idea of celebrating one’s protector like that. I felt a very deep sympathy for the unselfish old man. But could his reputation alone safe this town from villains? I had my doubts. The rest of the day I spent together with Joanne, and when I got home to my hotel room that night I felt asleep and dreamt very nice dreams: I was marrying Joanne and we lived together in that peaceful town until we died. When I woke up the next morning I immediately felt that something was different. The sun did not shine for the first time since I arrived there. The people out on the street were different as well: all women, even the elderly ones wore their best dresses and flowers in their hair. But what I noticed regarding the men really made me anxious: everybody was carrying a gun, a colt or whatsoever, they showed off and little children hunted other children with coloured feathers on their heads. I was shocked. I immediately went out on the street in order to find out what was going on. I went to the market place and discovered an amazingly large crowd that was assembled around a foreign looking man with a black beard and a large dark statson. He carried many weapons with him and was holding a speech about how corruption, illegality and crime could cause their sleepy town prosper. The people applauded and screamed “LeRoy! LeRoy!”. The women looked at him in a strange way – relatively interested and every single woman tried to catch a view from him. And when I speak of every single woman I truly mean it. None other than my beloved Joanne kissed LeRoy’s hands, when he noticed her he announced that she would be his new wife. Joanne screamed hysterically and embraced LeRoy. It was a pathetic scene. After a few days the town had changed extraordinarily. A new gunsmith and money laundries established in no time. Crime and violence were not special anymore. I wanted the good old times back - for the town’s sake but, admittedly, especially in my very own interest. I wanted Joanne back, no matter what price I would have to pay, no matter how risky it would become. But of course, I preferred risking another’s life than my own one so I went to Bob “The Butcher” McCoy and told him about the recent events. My plan was simple but brilliant. I suggested him to compete against LeRoy in a duel and, as I expected, the bald hero agreed. I sent out a messenger to LeRoy’s house where he lived with Joanne and his wicked collegues. He told him about the duel and came back with a note reading: “Wednesday, Main Street in front of the barber shop. High Noon. Fair match, no tricks.“ I showed the note to McCoy, who was not able to read it as his hands trembled so much that I had to read it out loud to him. Wednesday at about one hour to midday I reached the barber shop and did not find a proper place to stay at for there were masses of people who all shouted “LeRoy! Le Roy!” – “Ungrateful blind crowd.” I said to myself. But I was confident and looked forward to hold Joanne in my arms again. A thought that made me smile. At five to 12 the crowd started whispering and I was able to see a black figure appear at the horizon. It was LeRoy with his companions. He walked to the duel master. McCoy’s appearance was not all that impressive: he stumbled about his shaking left leg and reached the duel master a little bit later than LeRoy did. The duel master declared the official rules and the match could begin. Both competitors went exactly ten steps apart, and the things happening in 10 seconds seemed to me like hours: I could see McCoy turn around very slowly, his hands shaking more than ever. His eyes turned towards the sky and I feared that he would fall again. LeRoy has turned around but didn’t move his hands – the holster and the colt both were still untouched. My eyes wandered to McCoy again, he now seemed to have completely lost control of his body and was about to fall onto his back when I burst out of the crowd in order to catch McCoy. He had clinched his hand around the colt and flung it back and forth. I suddenly heard a shot, then another, then I felt a terrible pain in my right ankle. I fell onto McCoy and screamed. Suddenly the old man beneath me stopped shaking his hand and a smoking colt fell out of it. I heard something from above coming closer and closer. I raised my head and a second later my face was covered with the feathers of a Texas Prairie Chicken. I spit out a few downy fibres. What a humiliation. The crowd screamed and cheered. They shouted: “LeRoy has magic invisible bullets, he didn’t even have to take his colt and aim, he’s brilliant!” I looked over to LeRoy whose colt was still in his holster. I think he knew as well as I did that the invincible hero McCoy died from a heart attack. Nevertheless, LeRoy was a proud winner, he seemed to like the story of the magic bullets and very much to my sorrow Joanne seemed to like it as well. After that I very quickly packed my bags and wanted to go out of there, as fast as I could go with my wounded foot. At the end I wish I had never been there.