Christmas Chicken

One year just after Christmas, a friend and I were heading to Beaufort for a couple of days of R and R. A bad wreck had blocked I-95, so we swung over to 17-A to complete our trip. Now, you know you’re in a rural part of the South when not even a main highway is an alternative to the interstate—instead, you’ve got to take the “A,” as in an alternative to the alternative highway.

We were happily cruising along about dusk when we spotted Christmas lights ahead. In the yard of a rather