Once there lived 4 close friends. Hand, tongue, the mind and the chicken. It is said that friendships day was born the day they became friends. Such amazing was their friendship. Fighting together, playing together, always there for each other.
Their daily routine used to be quiet monotonous though. The Hand's job was to gather food and pass it on to the Tongue. The Tongue would take the Teeth's help to break down and swallow the food. Mind you, Tongue and Teeth weren't very close. Quite often, the Teeth, in a fit of rage, enviously would hurt the Tongue. It happened once, twice, and became a regular feature. The Teeth used to sarcastically apologize, but it made no difference. The Hand and the Mind knew this but, were helpless. Coming back to the daily routine, after the food was swallowed, the small particles used to travel through small tunnels and used to reach the Mind. Mind used to feel energized and send positive feedback to the Hand and Tongue. Hand responds by gathering even more food.
But the chicken could never be a part of this routine you see which always made it feel left out. The other three well aware of the situation, made sure they cheer the chicken up. So once the days job was done, they would play catch with the chicken. The mind would direct the extended hand to run in the direction of the chicken with tongue hanging out lustrously. After some crazy minutes, all 3 would act tired and let the chicken win. This gave the chicken immense pleasure. The game again was a daily routine. It so happened one day, during such a game, that this fast running chicken ran towards the setting sun where the farmer was lighting a fire. The mind saw the fire first and signaled the tongue and the hand to stop the chicken but before they could do anything, the chicken lept and was met by the fire which in an instance, from a helpless child turned into a monster and gulped the chicken :-(
The hand acted brave and risked itself in getting the chicken out from the fire. Such was the friendship anyway. The injured chicken, with the help of his friends, dived into the bucket lying next to it. Alas, the bucket had no water! It withered in pain and agony, whispered some lines to it pals and met with its unfortunate end.
What was it that the chicken whispered? I asked the mind.
"It was Chicken's last wish", said the mind, "That we remember each day spent together and never have a reason to mourn for him".
"We can not mourn for the Chicken for that was his last wish", said the tongue. Depressed hands held my head only to release when the mind turned strong.
"For generations to come, said the mind, "we will celebrate this day by serving chicken in a bucket".