Frank? Frank who?

A long, long time ago, my younger cousin was a member of the local 4 H Club.  She needed a project for the year so my Uncle bought three dozen Capons.  Since she and I did a lot of things together, I was helping to care for them.  You all know, I'm sure, that a Capon is a castrated rooster.  We had the big pen out in back, watering troughs, daily feeding schedules as they grew plumper by the day.  My Uncle wanted them for their meat, which is considerably more tender and juicy fed the right diet, and couldn't wait until my cousin's project was completed and they would be ready.

Do you know what happens when the caponization (castration) fails?  You get a rooster.  You all know what roosters do.  They crow sometimes a lot sometimes not.  HE did.  His name was Frank.  I named him after a fellow I had dated that summer.  He was a pain in the you know what, as he wouldn't leave me alone.  He was always calling, driving out "to the country" and "just happen to be going by."  I went out with him once and that was enough.

Frank was the first one to go, if you know what I mean.  He tasted good, stuffed tightly with that bread and cracker stuffing my Aunt used to make.  Although I was a little squeamish staring at his golden brown juicy skin when he was placed on the table, those feelings went away quickly and I cleaned my plate savoring the cranberry sauce and biscuit at the end.  So to you I say...Frank?  Frank who?

P.S.  Linking up with Angela today at W VA Treasures for her Tuesdays Show & Tail.