Prompt 6

When I lived in Africa, the whole process/tradition of buying live goats and chickens and killing and butchering them yourself for fresh meat was very new to me. As such I befriended a chicken named chicken little who we kept for a while and my dad decided not to kill to make me happy. However when a goat came to our house I was excited but theater that day I heard it cry and saw it being killed right in front of me. After whining for a bit, in a fit of revenge, I put sand and dirt all over my dad's new truck and oh boy when I heard him scream my name did I know I was in for the whuping of a lifetime. Sadly chicken little passed away during our year's stay but my sinlings and I held a funeral for her and remember her to this day; May she rest in peace.

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