On this day :
1969 Woodstock Music Festival concludes, 1785 Connecticut Patriot Jonathan Trumbull dies, 1915 Charles Kettering receives patent for electric selfstarter, 1862 Dakota uprising begins in Minnesota, 1962 East Germans kill man trying to cross Berlin Wall, 1984 A serial rapist strikes in England, 1999 Earthquake exposes weak infrastructure, 1943 Patton wins race to Messina, 1978 Balloon crosses the Atlantic, 1987 Hitlers last living henchman dies, 1999 Deadly earthquake strikes Turkey, 1943 Robert De Niro born, 1993 Random House gives Colin Powell largest autobiography advance to date, 1974 The Night Chicago Died by Paper Lace tops the US pop charts, 1877 Billy the Kid kills his first man, 1998 Clinton testifies before grand jury, 1933 Lou Gehrig goes the distance, 1968 117000 combat missions flown over North Vietnam in three years, 1973 US troops to withdraw from Thailand, 1914 Russian troops invade East Prussia, 1942 Carlsons Raiders land on Makin Island,

Stories

The Chicken Man

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Once I was walking along the old, dusty road in front of the main street. The street was empty except for the usual postal service van and a few cycles. This was because it was a Sunday, the day when the rich go to casinos, and come back, not so rich, in the evening. Until then, the town is filled with the poor. You may ask who I am. They call me the chicken man.

Actually, I’m the one who delivers chicken to those who ordered it. My real name is Rahul.

Once I got a bizarre order. I had to deliver chicken worth 100kilograms. That’s a lot of chicken, by the way. It was probably by one of the rich people, but hundred kilos of chicken is too much.

So I was walking along the dusty road with my camper’s bag of chicken. I came to a big house with a bigger porch. But the rich people don’t give a hoot about plants, and so this porch was brown.

The house was empty. This was irritating. So I swung the bag and it crashed in to the window. Chicken is delivered. But on the porch, I saw something. I knew casinos worked with chips. I saw a chip in the grass. No, it was not a potato chip. This chip had a number on it. It was ‘one followed by six zeroes’!

I took it and dashed to the casino. I did not want to gamble. Redeeming it was enough for me. The man at the counter was not at all surprised to see the chip. In fact, he laughed at me. These rich people probably don’t value money much. I redeemed the chip and brought the booty home.

With the money, I renovated the chicken shop, hired some helpers and started business in a big way. More customers started coming, more money started pouring in.

Now I was still the chicken man, only richer!

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