Full disclaimer - this has to be one of the weirdest stories that I have ever written, and I have written a LOT of weird old stories. Just imagine you walk into a cheesy old greasy spoon diner, the kind that ought to hand out anti-acid along with a napkin, knife and fork. You ask the waitress for eggs and bacon and she brings you a plate with live chicken on it. I mean, feathers and beak and the whole bonanza. Just think about a mix of Kafka and O'Henry...