The ubiquitous rubber chicken was getting disparaged on another clown-related Facebook page recently.
They posed questions like, “Is the rubber chicken overdone? Is it still funny? Was it ever funny?"
Figuring he might have something to say about that, I sat down with my (Dr. Fun E. Bone's) assistant, Dr. Fowlbreath -- he's actually a plastic rubber chicken . . . his predecessor, a real rubber chicken, retired to the banquet circuit), and he offered up these clucks about his work in the hospital:
1. If you're going to use me as a prop, give me some personality and make me a partner in comedy, preferably something with some backbone, not just a visual gag.
2. Yes, I do make a passable magic wand replacement, but if you bop my head on the cards/prop, better kiss my ow-wee.
3. Give me a kiss; you'll find I taste like chicken.
4. Let me poke my head into the room first to scout things out; I get attention and get the giggles going, a good way to do a funny bone assessment of receptivity in the room.
5. But first, check to see if they've ordered chicken for breakfast or lunch. If so, I'm not going in there.
6. I can look around corners really well, too; just bend my neck at a right angle.
7. If you get stuck in the middle of a card trick, magic bit, or other piece of funny business, let me nibble on your ear, oops I mean whisper in your ear, and I'll remind you what to do or what to say next.
8. I do fantastic 'poultry in motion' acrobatics, standing on my head (forehead works best) and single or double backflips . . . whoever said chickens can't fly? You can weight my legs with heavy-duty garden poles for best results.
9. Yes, you can keep practicing your red nose transplants on me.
10. In answer to that age-old question, why did the rubber chicken cross the road? I wanted to stretch my legs. Why did the rubber chicken cross the road a second time? There was a rubber rooster on the other side.
12. You know that phrase, "rubber necking?" It's got nothing to do with kissing.
13. And for my final bow, another right angle of the rubber neck downward and I'm outta there!
Give that rubber chicken a high four! (Rubber chickens only have four digits on each foot, duh.)
They posed questions like, “Is the rubber chicken overdone? Is it still funny? Was it ever funny?"
Figuring he might have something to say about that, I sat down with my (Dr. Fun E. Bone's) assistant, Dr. Fowlbreath -- he's actually a plastic rubber chicken . . . his predecessor, a real rubber chicken, retired to the banquet circuit), and he offered up these clucks about his work in the hospital:
1. If you're going to use me as a prop, give me some personality and make me a partner in comedy, preferably something with some backbone, not just a visual gag.
2. Yes, I do make a passable magic wand replacement, but if you bop my head on the cards/prop, better kiss my ow-wee.
3. Give me a kiss; you'll find I taste like chicken.
4. Let me poke my head into the room first to scout things out; I get attention and get the giggles going, a good way to do a funny bone assessment of receptivity in the room.
5. But first, check to see if they've ordered chicken for breakfast or lunch. If so, I'm not going in there.
6. I can look around corners really well, too; just bend my neck at a right angle.
7. If you get stuck in the middle of a card trick, magic bit, or other piece of funny business, let me nibble on your ear, oops I mean whisper in your ear, and I'll remind you what to do or what to say next.
8. I do fantastic 'poultry in motion' acrobatics, standing on my head (forehead works best) and single or double backflips . . . whoever said chickens can't fly? You can weight my legs with heavy-duty garden poles for best results.
9. Yes, you can keep practicing your red nose transplants on me.
10. In answer to that age-old question, why did the rubber chicken cross the road? I wanted to stretch my legs. Why did the rubber chicken cross the road a second time? There was a rubber rooster on the other side.
12. You know that phrase, "rubber necking?" It's got nothing to do with kissing.
13. And for my final bow, another right angle of the rubber neck downward and I'm outta there!
Give that rubber chicken a high four! (Rubber chickens only have four digits on each foot, duh.)
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