Reginald

Reginald declared war mid takeout call and I lost the battle

There's nothing quite like a phone call to a restaurant to bring out the inner raptor in a chicken. Reginald decided my takeout order was the perfect moment to launch a full-scale assault, and honestly, I respect the commitment. This little shitstain clearly missed the memo that we have a peaceful coexistence going on. It's equal parts hilarious and terrifying, which pretty much sums up life with feathered friends. For anyone who thinks chickens are just docile backyard pals, let this be a cautionary tale. If you need me, I'll be over here recovering and maybe checking out how other folks survive their own flock drama, like in "Chickens Got Her Good! A Backyard Poultry Adventure." Stay brave out there.