The Yankee Chicken loves the shoe box he rents. But sometimes, he wishes the shoe box had a little more storage.
And sometimes, he gets design inspiration and wishes he could put up crown molding over Mo, Andy and OMJ and take the sheet rock off above the fireplace to expose the brick. And sometimes, he thinks it'd be cool to have the money he's spending in rent go to something that will become a nice investment. Maybe I could buy my own shoe box, The Yankee Chicken muses. He knows he doesn't have the budget of, say, a Derek Jeter. Or even that of some bench guy who only fills in at second base every now and then. But he might be able to pull it off if he ventures into another neighborhood, and makes his commute to The Good Luck Bringing Corporation slightly longer.
So The Yankee Chicken enlists his good friend The Real Estate Broker Chicken to help his search. He tells the Broker Chicken his wants: A neighborhood that's safe for single chickens to walk home alone at night (he works late hours bringing luck to the Yankees, after all); something that needs a little renovating so he can put his own spin on it; a place big enough to have a karaoke party with the entire Yankee 25-man roster (40-man roster, if it's September)... or at least big enough to do yoga without breaking delicate heirlooms mid-stretch.
The first box The Real Estate Broker Chicken shows The Yankee Chicken is more of a lean-to, but has the location The Yankee Chicken is looking for. "I wish it had four walls but it's well-maintained," says The Yankee Chicken. "How much is the maintenance fee?" The Real Estate Broker Chicken studies the listing sheet. "Approximately the amount of money Derek Jeter gets for one at-bat." The Yankee Chicken feels a wave of disappointment wash over him, much like that time Mariano Rivera gave up that game-winning hit in the World Series (though slightly less intense). "That would be stretching my budget," The Yankee Chicken sighs. "I already live pretty simply, but this would mean giving up the YES Network and eating cereal for every meal. I sort of like nutrition."
So The Real Estate Broker Chicken shows The Yankee Chicken a fantastic shipping box, much bigger than his current place, right in the neighborhood The Yankee Chicken desires, making his optimism come rushing back. "I love this shipping box," The Yankee Chicken says. "The maintenance is fair (it already includes taxes and utilities!) and even the wall decor is amazing! What do I have to do to get this one?"
"It's a co-op - not to be confused with a coop, which we are both familiar with living in. The hyphen makes all the difference," The Real Estate Broker Chicken says. "For this one, you would have to use your entire hard-earned savings as a downpayment. And you'd maybe have to offer a blood sacrifice to the head of the co-op board, who is a Mets fan." And just like that, the Mariano Rivera Blowing the World Series feeling comes rushing back. "I am just a first-time box buyer and was hoping to only put about 10 percent down," laments the Yankee Chicken. "I do not like this idea of a coop with a hyphen."
Finally, The Yankee Chicken and The Real Estate Broker Chicken visit an open box in a neighborhood next to the Yankee Chicken's current area. It has a low asking price and low maintenance, and even if there was a drug deal going down on the front steps when The Yankee Chicken came in, it's something that can belong to The Yankee Chicken and not to a Landlord Who's Only Going to Kick Him Out to Renovate His Apartment and Rent It Out to 20-Somethings Whose Parents Are Footing the Bill Because Well-Established Parents Are the Only People Who Can Afford Ridiculous Rent.
But it's all for naught, because eleven of the sixteen dual-income couples also looking at the open box declare that they are putting an offer in, and a bidding war breaks out right there in front of the single-income Yankee Chicken, who goes in search of the drug dealer, because he thinks he might need a second career to supplement his income if he's ever going to get a piece of the American Dream.