A Cultural Anomaly -- Prose-Poetry

They were Hollywood farmed; the girls, the pink and blond feathers- shoes on their heads, but when they began to give birth to human chickens there was a national outcry. Cops cordoned off each home where an avian pregnancy had occurred. A comprehensive government birth control program had fallen short; the girls had mated, but with what? The chicks (we called them chicks), were hairless, not bald, feathers as thin as needles grew from their heads, but the skin was plucked as if some evolutionary edict had demanded they be retail-ready. The off-spring were quickly taken away for cold-storage. Within hours each young mother had been represented by agents. Legal teams coalesced around bewildered families. They were told to say nothing, sign nothing, promise nothing, but they did. The girls began to talk. None of them could recall having strange sex. They social networked, argued, trash talked, became best friends forever. Giggled on ‘Late Night’ talk shows. They composed lists of their favorite things. A chorus of tweets became raucous. The unusual births were sporadic, incidences became less, soon there were no more reports. The media moved on. The girls struggled to stay newsworthy, were medicated with drugs manufactured by masked workers. Gradually they began to shop in small groups again. Their behavior closely watched by celebrity therapists and ornithologists. The girls kept their shoes in designer shopping bags and on their feet. When asked why they had once placed shoes on their head, they would run away clucking hysterically.