One day, in a land far far away, there lived a chicken. This chicken, however, was no ordinary chicken. For some reason, unbeknownst to his comrades, this chicken did not need to eat food to survive. Instead, it seemed as though he was able to continue living through the power of dance alone. He lived this way for his entire life. He had tried eating before, but whenever he did he became violently ill. And so, his days were filled with joy, for he was never worried about beating his hunger. Whenever he felt tired or weak, a dance would well up from deep inside his belly, work its way down to the tips of his talons and to the ends of his wings, until it consumed his very being.
However, not all that knew him were fond of his dancing. As he grew older, humans started to take notice of his abilities, and began getting annoyed at his raucous displays. One day, a woman nearly had a heart attack after witnessing the atrocious performance, and decided enough was enough. She grabbed the chicken by his neck, shook him hard and screamed in his face,
“Enough is enough! I’m sick and tired of your dancing, and I won’t stand for it any longer.”
She then found a nearby lamppost and began fishing through her purse with her hand that was not currently occupied strangling the poor chicken. After what seemed like a century to the dying chicken, she pulled out a length of rope, and began tying him tightly to the post.
“Bawk bawk bawk!” Shouted the chicken, trying to catch the eye of this mysterious woman who had decided to capture him. He had no way of explaining that he would starve to death without his dancing, for she could not understand his bawking.
So the chicken was left to rot, tied to the lamppost. He pleaded as other humans and chickens passed by, trying to get their attention; however, the sounds of the city overwhelmed his bawking, and nobody paid him any heed.
Early the next day, after a restless sleep, the chicken slowly opened one eye. After a few seconds had passed, he mustered enough strength to open the other. He saw the city dwellers rushing by, always seeming to be in a hurry. He was on the brink of starvation; he did not know how much longer he would last.
As his life began to flash before his eyes, a large shadow enveloped him. He squinted towards the sky, lifting his head with what little strength he had left. At first the figure was blurry, but as his vision cleared he could make out a pale, almost deathly looking face, framed by a scarf around his neck and a beret on his head. Mimes were common in Transylvania; not as common as gypsies, but common nonetheless. The mime bent down to look the chicken in the eye. He studied the chicken from head to talon, cocking his head to the side and rubbing his chin.
He seemed to have come to a decision. He walked around to the back of the lamppost, and untied the intricate knots that were keeping the chicken imprisoned. The chicken immediately stretched out his feathers, which had cramped from staying still for so long. After he finished limbering up, he broke into the most wonderful dance of his life; he could feel his tired body filling with energy. The mime regarded the chicken with fascination, as he had never seen another dance quite like this one. He then decided he did not like this life of silence that had been callously thrust upon him by his peers, and broke into a song that rivalled the passion displayed by his new winged companion. Onlookers began to gather, and began to throw coins to the duo, impressed by the song that had been inspired by the chicken’s whirling feathers. The pair danced late into the night, and from that point on traveled together wherever they went, entertaining the masses that followed in their wake.