| Guest | The Chicken Avenger
By Jonny Pajamas
Hunger ripped through his gut, like a pain filled cramp streaking up his side. The store that usually delivered food to his door was closed for the night. There was only one thing he could do; he would have to go to the super market. No easy task for a man who hasn’t left his apartment in over fifteen years. Not since that day that would remain burned into his memory for ever. It was Halloween 1987, he was dressed up as Lassie, but he was no ones bitch. That is, until he was jumped by four men. They chased him under a bush, behind a stranger’s house. Two boys kicked at him from one side, while two pulled at him from the other. When they got him out, they stomped him into the ground and took whatever he had in his pockets. What a sight he was, limping down the road dressed as lassie, dragging his ass all the way home, never to leave his apartment again.
Here he was all those years later, a grown man living like a hermit. His only pleasure, magical mushrooms which he grew off of rice cakes next to his bed. Now more than ever, he would need their magical powers to guide him on his journey out into the world he had hid from for all these years. He ate his largest dose ever, one gram for every year hidden away. He chopped them up, threw them into some orange juice, and gulped them down while holding his nose.
Only outside for a few minutes, he could already feel them working their spell. His got faint, stumbled, but then righted himself and tramped boldly off down the block which had changed so much in the last decade and a half. Blazing electric lights took on strange tunnel like shapes that twisted into vortexes of faces and flashes. He was about to blast off the planet into a world of poultry and intrigue.
He stood face to face with the supermarket. It had changed names and owners seven times while he hid away. The electric door swept open, exposing a vast sea of fruits and vegetables. Papaya, Beats, mangos, they all smiled at him for what seemed like an eternity before he realized that these were people. He wasn’t seeing things. These were people dressed like fruit. Could it be? What were the chances? Was it Halloween of all night’s that he chose to venture out?!? Oh dear god he thought to himself, I must escape. I have got to hold my shit together long enough to get some fucking chips or something and get home, he thought to himself. He turned the corner and was face to face with a giant walking, talking Shrimp man! The shrimp held up a chicken and yelled, “Chicken is on sale, you like the chicken, you want to eat the chicken.” OK, whatever he grabbed the chicken and took off, dashing out of the store without paying and into a dark alley.
He was at a level 5 for sure when the chicken said, “put me on Suzie. Put me on your big fat head Suzie Rubber Buckets!” Now he had seen a lot of strange things in his time, but a talking chicken that knew his secret pet name for himself was definitely way out there. He didn’t give it a second thought, it just felt so right. It felt like everything would be fine if he just crammed his head up the chicken’s slimy ass. He grabbed it by the legs, and in one fierce thrust, his head disappeared!
As if acting on instinct, he opened his eyes and saw the world in a whole new way. He realized he was seeing what was behind him! He was seeing through the chickens eyes! Suddenly the chicken spun around on his shoulders and took over control of his whole body. “CLUCK CLUCK AND AWAY!” he yelled before barreling down the dark alley into the light of the streetlamps. He was a man on a mission; he could not stop the urge building inside him like the need to pee real bad. He felt the uncontrollable need to protect poultry from all those who might do his feathered brothers harm. There was one place and one place only that he needed to go.
With a flap of his arms and a cluck he threw himself through the window of the man he now knew to be his arch enemy. He was standing in the living room of the one and only Frank Perdue. The door to the kitchen was cracked open, and he peeked through to see the object of his obsession, a lone breaded cutlet perched on the butcher block. It was then that he realized he was not alone. The chicken on his head spun around and seeing behind him as he had before, he cast his gaze upon the professor of poultry.
Something didn’t seem right, but before he could put his finger on what it was, the old man shot left and with a flying kick our hero found himself face down on the cold marble floor. As though he was lifted off the ground by invisible wires, the chicken avenger stood straight up. His arm thrust outward, grabbing the cuffs of the old mans velvet robe. Pulling him close, he smashed Perdue to the floor. Then his suspicions were confirmed. Frank Perdue began crawling up the wall like a spider, he lunged at Suzie Rubber Buckets while shrieking. Thinking fast the chicken avenger grabbed the breaded cutlet and held it outward, impaling the flying Perdue, who fell to the ground in a heap of wires and smoke.
“I see you have bested my robot” the real Frank Perdue said in a small fragile voice. “I will have to make some adjustments.” Our hero took a moment to gather his thoughts and then said, “Why do you have a robot of yourself?” Perdue picked up a broom and began sweeping the parts into a pile and explained, “I am an old man, I won’t live forever and can’t trust my idiot son to take over the real family business.” “What’s the real family business, I thought you terrorized chickens the world over for your own sadistic pleasure and monetary gains” Suzie said. “That’s just a cover for my real operation. I run the secret organization F.O.W.L. which stands for Fuck Over World Leaders, I think you already know about one of my other robots, Monica Lewinsky” Perdue explained.
With this new knowledge, the Chicken Avenger felt his true battle lay elsewhere, he didn’t care about people or there leaders, he cared about chicken and their wellbeing. “CLUCK CLUCK AND AWAY” he yelled with a flap of his arms as he threw himself out the window. He was off into the night, no longer a pathetic hermit who hid from the world. He had found meaning and inspiration. He was nobody’s bitch, and with his new lease on life he headed north in search of all those who would bring harm to chickens and their liberty. He felt whole, and fulfilled with the knowledge that as long as people ate chicken, there would be a place for him in the world.
THE END |