I have been born into a world that is not meant for me. I rose from the ways of my kind, moved from the fields of nowhere to take my chance in the part of the world where civilization means I might be able to do or be anything.
The garments are hard to come by, people do not realize that. Plus, I have no proper speech which would make it impossible to conduct transactions in person. I rely upon electronic means, the best part of modern technology.
Then there is the training. I am truly a jack of all trades. I learn quickly for one who can't speak and this intelligence is my only real gift. I model myself after the ways of others, praying one day I will find the thing I can do so perfectly that I don't hear that dreaded phrase.
Alas, my costumes always fail me in the end. One will always accuse me of my true nature and I will hear people defend me and hope beyond hope the accuser will drop the matter. But then some catastrophe comes along and my disguise is destroyed and I am revealed in my shame.
"He's a chicken!"
Then I hear that damn hateful song, mocking me; tormenting me from the depths of my personal hell.
"You wear a disguise to look like human guys, but you're not a man, you're a chicken Boo."