The Chicken Thing

Some claim it started with a chicken. Others disagree. As per usual, science as a collective whole has come up with a theory even they don’t understand. Out in the deep nothingness before time, there was, well, nothing. And then, there was something. A chicken. Just floating there in the nothingness, if it is indeed even possible to float in nothingness. This particular chicken was of the loud annoying variety.

It floated through space and time doing whatever chickenish things it felt like doing. This chicken then supposedly laid an egg, putting an end to the ever-present question of which came first. This momentous event resulted in the birth of the Universe. So some claim. Those who claim this, however, also happen to believe that they are chickens as well, which basically throws that theory out the prospective window.

The chicken. Floating through space. Did not lay an egg, however, it found a gnat. Not a particularly interesting gnat, just an average, run of the mill, gnat. Upon eating it, the chicken exploded. Thus the Universe was born. This on the whole is a much more accepted theory, as the gender of the chicken was not known (it is assumed, however, that the chicken was indeed a female chicken).

With the explosion of the chicken, stars were born, galaxies formed, and an unusual surplus of chickens was found on every world. Surprisingly enough, chickens did not run the Universe. Science, as a collective whole, having found that no one wanted to listen to its theories, resolved to not listen to anyone else’s either, and went on to call into existence a demon chicken, which we will be introduced to later.

Several billion years later, there was sufficient intelligent life in the Universe to begin pondering its origins and this theory was formed. Our story is concerned with three of these life forms, and their search for exactly why the hell there were so many chickens in the Universe. They don’t know that yet. Let us journey to the planet of, ah, Zimack. On this fairly nondescript planet, we find the first character - Josh.

***

"Argh!" Josh was not a happy camper. That is to say, he wasn’t exactly camping. Nor was he of the camping type - he much preferred sitting at home and watching old movies on his vid screen. Josh was currently attempting to find something to eat in his refrigerator. Upon finding nothing even remotely edible, he stood up rather too quickly and bashed his head on the refrigerator shelf. Thus, the reason for the ‘Argh’.

Josh rubbed the rapidly forming lump on his blond skull and glared viciously at the refrigerator. He flashed his chartreuse eyes at it, a new skill he’d recently learned, but an altogether useless one, as the refrigerator was completely oblivious to any and all emotion.

"Ouch," he muttered. He sighed and stalked out of the kitchen to plop on the couch in front of the vid screen. Sure, he was missing another exciting day of attempting to get rid of the enormous chicken population, but he’d had enough of running around with a heavy shotgun. He sighed again and flipped on the screen. The news was on, the reporter, as usual, sounded as if he’d recently gotten a cold. His high, nasal voice irritated Josh to no end.

"In further news, the plague of chickens still has not ended. Officials are as of yet unable to identify why exactly all of these chickens are here, but . . ." Josh flicked off the screen and stood up. He was going to do something interesting today, and it would NOT involve chickens. So he hoped. He sighed once again and walked outside, figuring that if the interesting thing had to involve chickens, he might as well get a laugh first. He stepped out onto the porch and gazed around. The dry, arid sand of his backyard greeted him, along with the purple forest in the distance. The sky was its usual fluorescent green. Josh leaned against the pole of his porch and waited for the fun to begin. He didn’t have to wait long.

A chicken came screaming by, careening along as if chased by the very hounds of hell. Which, in a way, it was. An elderly man came into view a second later, waving his heavy shotgun and shouting, "To ‘ell wiv all of you damned birds!"

Josh couldn’t help himself and burst into laughter. We’ll leave him rolling on the porch in mirthful agony and pop away to the second character, Minax Phasma III.

***

Minax Phasma III stalked sulkily down the halls of the monastery, kicking the occasional chicken. She had been looking for their golden torc for four days now, and she didn’t even know what a torc was. She was getting fed up with the whole business.

'I might as well have remained an out of work thief for all the luck I’m having in finding this stupid thing', she thought angrily, stomping past a huddled group of monks. They gazed questioningly at this person who dared to disturb the silence, but quickly averted their eyes, seeing her angry stare. Minax was in the process of storming by the main hall when the glint of gold caught her eye. Gold was, in fact, the one color she could discern from all the others, being completely color-blind. Not a good trait in a thief, perhaps, but Minax had never been one for following standards.

The glinting drew her into the room filled with chanting monks in their purple habits. The gold was hanging on the altar. Minax quietly slipped between the purple figures until she stood in front of the altar. The gold disc was approximately three feet in diameter. So this is a torc . . . she thought, reaching out for it. Unfortunately, the overlarge sleeve of her habit passed through the lasers she conveniently hadn’t seen guarding it. Sirens screamed around her as a few guards came bursting into the room. They grabbed her and began dragging her throughout the monastery, unperturbed by her curses. She cursed their mothers, their looks, their fathers, their relatives, and had gotten a good start on cursing their children when one of them smashed her head with a rather large chicken that had been sitting on the floor nearby. Needless to say, Minax was not a skilled thief.

***

Grizund Damathcorp, one of those frightening star pilots who think they know everything about the universe, was at this very moment zooming toward the planet of Zimack, furiously swearing in the endearing way only know-it-all star pilots can. That blasted fool of a thief Minax had gotten herself captured. Again. Not that this was anything new; Minax got captured on an average of about twice a month. You’d think she’d learn something from all of that, but no.

Never mind that, Grizund had no time for Minax's stupidity now. She had to go pick up Josh from Zimack and deliver him to some remote, out of the way planet where he would presumably be tortured to death by some primitive, overenthusiastic warlord. That was what generally happened to the gentlemen she picked up.

She sighed impatiently and glanced down at her vid screen to see where she was. ‘Damn,’ she thought, ‘still two systems away’. She thumped the screen to see if it had just frozen and was rewarded with the monotone automatic response: "Please do not touch the vid screen, as it could become cluttered and difficult to read."

Grizund stood. It would take at least a few hours to reach Zimack, and she was tired. She stretched and moved her brown hair out of her hazel eyes before stomping back to the small bed in the cargo area. The ship could handle itself on autopilot, unless there were some of those cursed fast food joints en route to Zimack, in which case she would be delayed for a few more hours. She shook her head and laid down on the bed, falling asleep instantly. The ship cruised silently onward.