Excuse me... would you like a chicken?

Saturday on the bus I saw a guy who looked like Napoleon Dynamite but about thirty pounds heavier. He had a goofy looking t-shirt, tan shorts, and socks with sandals. (Oh dear.) He had glasses, and I will say they were slightly smaller than Napoleon's, but the resemblance was such that me and my friend both noticed it.
Any way, later that day I was walking out of the campus post office with my friend, and there he was, sitting, eating something. (No it wasn't a quesadilla.) We walked down the hall, and he got up and followed us partway. We turned around and he said,

"Excuse me, would you like a chicken?" His expression was grave, his tone polite but monotone.

We both looked at him a little blankly.

"Do you have a spare chicken?" I asked. My friend laughed.

"Yes." He held a white grocery bag out to me.

"Um, sorry we just ate lunch." I told him.

"Oh." He said, his voice not really registering dissapointment, but still he stood, holding the bag. The moment was  awkward.

My friend thought one of her off-campus friends with a kitchen might want it, so she texted him, but we didn't get any response.

"Um, so how did you obtain this chicken?" I asked, grinning. My friend laughed again. It was a funny situation. Apparently he didn't think so, because his expression never changed.

"I bought it for lunch and I don't want it." He said.

My friend and I then went on in converstional banter about the chicken situation, and I was making a joke a second. Still, this guys expression remained grave, and he merely stood, watching us.

"Well, sorry." We said finally and started walking away.

With one final attempt to break his severity, I called "Good luck with your chicken!"  He didn't laugh. Guess some people don't like jokes. Or laughter. Or maybe he was really very concerned about getting rid of this chicken... it was hard to tell.