Tim was a man in a chicken suit
A man of forty-three
Two children and a quiet divorce
No car, but a big TV
"Buy Big Chicken Burgers"
Said the sign above Tim's head
And on the other side was written
"The food that keeps you fed."
It could have said anything
As far as Tim could care
People never read the signs
All they did was stare
At the middle-aged, over weight
Man inside the bird
With wire-rimmed glasses
And a face that never heard
The jeering and the calling
Of youths and passers-by
Tim just kept on walking
With his gaze fixed on the sky
One day while out walking
On his usual Thursday beat
Something caught Tim's eye
And he tripped over his feet
Something moving rapidly
Across the darkening sky
That seemed to be getting closer
If Tim could believe his eyes
He looked around the pavement
But no-one else had seen
Their eyes were locked on the floor below
And they trudged as in a dream
Tim looked at the shape again
It was definitely closing in
The shape was kind of circular
Like a Crawfords biscuit tin
He shouted to anyone around
But everyone seemed to have gone
All across the empty square
Tim was the only one
Tim stood helpless in the centre
His eyes fixed on the craft
As it hovered huge above his head
And a hatch opened at the aft
Tim looked up into the hatch
And saw a weapon there
When suddenly it fired a beam
That pulled him through the air
Up and up he rose at speed
Into the alien ship
Try as he might to free himself
He was caught in its iron grip
He was drawn into the centre
Of the interstellar hulk
Whose docking bay dwarved
Even Tim's considerable bulk
And standing there before him
With large purple eyes
Was a thin grey humanoid
Of smaller-than-average size
"So this is it, first contact.
"I'd better make it good.
"Hello, I'm Tim." He stammered
Wondering if it understood
The creature opened its mouth to speak
And Tim felt his pulse quicken.
"I got bored of cow," it said, licking its lips,
"And wanted to try chicken."
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