Freedom fighter

I went to buy chicken along with my dad-in-law. Apparently he is a stud at buying groceries & meat...seemed pretty decent for his experience. No stud though! Maybe my wife and I have different standards of a 'stud', especially one at buying groceries & meat. Though buying vegetables went about without much of a hitch, the chicken shop was flooded with customers. He tried his frantic best to get the attention of the guy who was picking up live stock from the cages and churning out pieces of cut-meat. Then he tried his best to get the attention of the other couple of guys helping the main guy out.

While he kept trying to get attention, what got my attention was that of a small kid who was apparently amused by the live chicken in cages who either buried their heads within their white feathers or sat flocked together with their eyes tight shut, scared to their pink bones, probably counting their seconds till they were picked up by the butcher. The kid kept sticking his fingers into the cages trying to pacify the worried lot. He also tried his mighty best to free them out of the cages, having seen the blood spill all over. The butchers, in giving the customers 'halal' meat, spilt a lot of blood on the ground (the halal method of killing live stock ensured that maximum blood oozed out and prevented blood from clotting within the body, apparently resulting in more hygiene), which spurred the kid to release the caged beings from their murderous captors.
Oblivious of my attempts to capture his courage on my mobile phone camera, the little guy braved possible pecks at his tiny fingers to keep trying for the 'right' thing. This struggle to deliver freedom went on till his dad, who till then had been doing the same thing which my dad-in-law had been trying, noticed what his little Napoleon was upto and picked him up. The little fellow might have been surprised at his dad's apathy (or mabe not), but had to give-in to the temptation of a piece of chocolate he got.

I turned back to see the sorry state of affairs with my in-law and called out to the butcher, who I knew from my many past visits. He quickly acknowledged my call and the next bag of cut chicken pieces was ours.