When I saw the villagers carrying Wang out of the ditch, I turned back to check on Chubby.
He was lying on the ground, writhing in pain, unable to get up.
The chicken had really gotten him good – the peck marks were bright red and swollen.
It was a rough sight, to say the least.
He looked like a deflated balloon, just shivering there on the ground.
He caught my eye, tears streaming down his face.
"Xiao Jie...help me up," he whimpered, "I want to go home..."
It dawned on me then that I'd completely forgotten about him in all the commotion.
The poor kid couldn't even pull his pants up, the pain was so bad.
I hauled him to his feet and he hobbled along beside me, hunched over and wincing with every step.
We hadn't gotten far before a group of aunties, done with their work in the fields, spotted us.
Of course, they immediately zeroed in on Chubby's, uh, interesting posture.
I explained about the chicken attack, and let me tell you, they did not believe me.
They'd never heard of such a thing in all their years!
They crowded around Chubby, poking and prodding, while he just sat there, bum in the air, completely helpless.
They finally agreed that he needed to see Liu Er, the village doctor.
So we continued our slow march to the clinic, Chubby and I.
You wouldn't believe the looks we got!
It was like he was a walking circus act.
People we passed just stopped and stared, then doubled over with laughter when they realized what had happened.
Poor Chubby, he was mortified.
Even I had to stifle a giggle, which he did not appreciate.
"My butt is on fire, and you're laughing?!" he cried, "Have you no hearts?!"
We finally made it to the clinic, each of us leaning on each other for support.
Liu Er's place was right in his house, and as soon as we stepped into the yard, his giant yellow dog came barreling towards us, barking.
It even started sniffing at Chubby's poor, abused backside!
I gave the dog a swift kick to send it on its way.
Liu Er found us like that, me holding up Chubby, who by this point was practically in tears.
He burst into laughter when I told him about the chicken attack.
"That was you yelling earlier?!" he choked out, "You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought I was going to have to sell all my heart medication! Come on, let's have a look."
I helped Chubby onto a long wooden bench and laid him down.
Liu Er disappeared inside, returning a moment later with a bottle of gentian violet.
But when he got a closer look at Chubby's injuries, he recoiled.
"Did you even wipe your butt?" he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose, "What is that? Never mind, have to clean this mess up first."
He sent me for a basin of water and then got to work cleaning the wound with tweezers and cotton wool.
Chubby lay there like a sad, little lump, completely defeated.
At least while the wound was being cleaned, he seemed to get a bit of a break from the pain.
"Alright, Chubby, brace yourself," Liu Er announced, "Time to disinfect!"
And with that, he started to dab the gentian violet on Chubby's raw skin.
I winced – the poor kid's butt was so red and swollen, the chicken must've been aiming for a knockout blow.
The second that gentian violet touched his skin, Chubby screamed.
"Liu Er, it burns!" he wailed, trying to curl up in a ball to protect his poor behind.
Liu Er was not in the mood.
"Go find me some rope," he told me, "We're tying this one down before he hurts himself!"
Apparently, he also found Chubby's pained yelps annoying, because he then proceeded to tape his mouth shut.
Because why not add insult to injury, right?
To be extra sure he wouldn't move, he tied Chubby's hands and feet to the bench, too.
Finally, with Chubby completely immobilized and silenced, he was able to apply the medicine.
Just as Liu Er finished, his dog sauntered back over, tail wagging.
He must've been hungry because he kept nudging Liu Er's hand with his nose.
"There are some leftover buns on the table inside," he said to me, "Give those to the dog, would ya? I'm going to find some anti-inflammatory."
I grabbed the buns but the moment we stepped away, things went from bad to worse for Chubby.
He couldn't move, he couldn't talk, but he could still hear everything.
And what does he hear?
The unmistakable crowing of a rooster.
He strained his neck to look and, of course, perched right there on the courtyard wall was the feathered fiend that had caused all this mayhem in the first place.
If looks could kill, that chicken would have been toast.
If only Chubby could move, he could exact his revenge.
But as it was, he was completely at that rooster's mercy, like a pig trussed up for a roast.
And as if to emphasize that point, the rooster flapped its wings and hopped down from the wall, strutting purposefully towards Chubby.
I saw the whole thing unfold, helpless to stop it.
As I came out of the house, buns in hand, I watched in horror as the rooster, probably attracted by the pungent smell of the gentian violet, ran over to Chubby's exposed backside and delivered three swift pecks to the exact same spot.
Even I felt that, and I was only watching.
It must have felt like someone was setting off fireworks on his raw flesh.
Poor Chubby!
His face turned beet red, tears gushed from his eyes, and his muffled screams vibrated through the entire courtyard.
I thought his eyeballs were going to pop out!
I really thought today couldn't get any worse.
Was this what Granny Liu meant by "a three-year calamity?"