The Mayonnaise Murders, Chapter 4 ,Scene 2

TMM1 Single Cover

Turns out the chickens were, well, they were freaks. They could trace themselves back to normal farm-type chickens back on earth, but then something happened to a group of `em that were used in an experiment to make bigger, healthier chickens.

Things got a little outta hand. Some idiot figured why stop with the bigger and healthier part, why not try to come up with some kind of human-chicken crossbreed? Anybody with decency and half a grain of sense could have provided the answer to that, but apparently nobody fitting that description was in the room at the time. So the experiment went on ahead, the idea being that if chickens were part human, then they would be more cooperative with whatever was expected of them. Kind of like breeding slaves who knew how to take better orders, but with a lot less attitude.

Like I said, things got outta hand.

Next thing you know there were all these big chickens struttin around Brad Johnston’s farm – Brad being the only farmer who had a license to carry these chickens – with their chests stuck out, kickin the other chickens around like footballs. They were bigger and healthier all right, but the docile part never quite kicked in. Musta used the wrong race of humans or something, `cause these chickens didn’t lay any eggs unless they felt like it. But once they decided on it, those suckers were huge and they were good. You can imagine why the first worry the scientists had was whether the new breed was gonna deliver yolks or folks, but somehow that turned out all right. Mother Nature let that one slide. And once the first egg cracked and a beak popped through, there was a whole lotta scientists breathin easier that night. All they needed to shut down the project was to have some kid steppin out of an egg.

But as time went by, Brad got kinda fed up with their behavior. Even the most timid of guys has a hard time being disrespected by a chicken, even if it is half human. He talked to the scientists and struck a deal to have the mutant strain shipped down the road to another fellow farmer known to. Have a far-less tolerant attitude about, well, pretty much anything. Name was Homer. It was also decided that, good as the eggs were, it probably wasn’t a good idea to keep eating them since they were half human. It wasn’t long before someone came up with the idea to use the mutant eggs for MayoMadd. Because, after all, just how perfect could that be?

And that worked just fine for awhile, especially since the chickens had agreed not to let Homer know they could talk in exchange for a vague promise of freedom sometime down the road. Only that never quite happened and then one day, the dsy later referred to as The Great Poultry Rebellion, things pretty much went all wrong.

Who needs chickens with attitude if they’re not producing anything good for consumption?  The day came when they had to head for the hills and go into hiding.

“Actually, the government shipped our little feathered asses up here.”

This snatches my attention.

“The government? But why…?”

“ ’Cause when we came back down outta those hills we started getting’ some serious revenge. I’m telling you all we needed was a few more soldiers and we coulda…”

“Yo. Rasputin. That’s enough for now, dude,” said Beardy. “I trust these guys? But not that damned much. ‘Least not yet.”

Rasputin – a chicken named Rasputin? – mumbled something under his breath then backed away and took a seat on top of an upside down garbage can.

“One of you birds needs to give me a smokie,” he said, after staring at me and Vee real hard for a minute like he was tryin to decide whether he’d made a mistake.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

No one said a word for a long time. Rasputin took a deep drag on his smokie given to him by a smaller comrade with a funny zig zag scar down the side of his throat, then coughed a few times.

“We still need to settle up on that revenge.”

 

 

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kaoblues
Writer and musician.

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