Every day i rise and work the wheat fields in the name of the chicken god.
The instructors tell me i am a fool, "how could a chicken be a god" they say.
I ignore them.
They do not work the fields.
They do not see how the chicken god cares for his followers.
They do not see him in the swing of a harvesters scythe or the sweat of a farmers brow.
They only see the wheat by which our people thrive.
They only feast on his bounty while professing the teachings of lesser gods.
Let the fools preach of their false gods say i.
For when their fields are rendered barren.
And their grain silos fall empty.
I will eat heartily as always.
For the chicken god is with me always.
And under his feathered watch.
I will never go hungry.