I was reading the news at lunch today and this story caught my eye: news. here is a one-shot tribute to the mystery of evolution, and of course, our favorite "chicken."
I don't own Max, Virgil, Norman, or the BBC. I just like them!
And no, the quote below is not taken verbatim from the article – I paraphrased for the sake of the narrative. Enjoy!
"Hey, Virg?"
"Yes, Mighty One?" After a moment of silence, the Lemurian fowl looked up from his scroll.
Max's face was round as he peeked over his laptop computer. Virgil knew that look: it always meant the Cap-Bearer was about to make some kind of joke, usually at his expense. He sighed internally, shifting to a more comfortable position on the grass. Having saved the world again, they were enjoying the warm summer day on a peaceful hilltop somewhere in Canada. Norman was repairing a piece of his armor that had taken a serious blow from some form of robot, Virgil was checking his scroll for local portals that might provide a quicker way home, and the Mighty One was...
"Well, see, I was just reading the news..." Max began, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You read the news?" Norman asked, surprised. "I thought you were just checking your email."
"Hey! I WAS checking my email, and I got this link from Bea. And I do so read the news! Just because I don't have any culture doesn't mean I don't want to know if we're going to war or something!" Max said indignantly.
"Indeed you do not have any culture. Otherwise you would have enjoyed that trip to the museum last week," Virgil smiled in a superior way.
"Actually, that's kinda what I wanted to ask you about," Max said, his eyes sliding back to his favorite target. "See, on the trip they were talking about evolution, and they used the example of how birds came from dinosaurs, right?"
"Indeed, that is the common modern theory," Virgil affirmed.
"And you're a bird right?"
"I am," Virgil hazarded, fearing where this could be going. "And my own evolutionary ancestors were quite noble," he pointed out, trying to cut the dialogue off before it was too late.
"And who were they?" Max asked.
"Would it surprise you to know that I am descended from the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex himself?" Virgil asked smugly. Norman grunted in response; they had both heard this boast many times before and it still failed to impress the warrior. The T-Rex was dead. What sort of example was that to live up to anyway?
"So..." Max smiled as he exclaimed gleefully, "that means you really ARE a chicken!"
"I...What?" Virgil demanded as the Mighty One began to laugh. Enjoying himself, Max passed his laptop across his knees to his friend. As the fowl, not chicken, examined the article in question, he winced.
"Researchers have discovered that the proteins retrieved from the bones of a Tyrannosaurus Rex prove that the closest living relative to the T-Rex remaining on earth is in fact the common chicken," he read aloud.
"Really?" Norman asked, eyes lighting up as he looked across at his young ward for confirmation.
"Yep..." Max was breathless with laughter, "this proves he really is a chicken. By his own words even!"
The timeless Viking looked from Max to Virgil, then put his head between his knees and roared with laughter. This, of course, set the Mighty One off again, who dissolved into a mess of self-satisfied giggles.
Virgil, for his part, was not terribly impressed. Indeed! Had the scientists in question tested the sample against his own blood they would have had different results, but then, it was hardly their fault that they had no Lemurian-fowl genomes on file. He could not see what could be amusing enough to turn a simple scientific discovery into such a spectacle of lost self-control and dignity.
"If you are quite finished," he said severely, causing both Max and Norman to swallow their merriment and attempt to hold still long enough to listen, "I have located the fastest way home from here, if you two would care to depart."
"Um, sure...Virgil," Norman said, his eyes wide at his suppressed laughter.
"We need to stop at the farmer's market on the way, though," Max said, sitting upright once more.
"Whatever for?"
"To find you a mate! Then you can lay a whole carton worth of jumbo dino-chicks!" Max crowed.
"You are not amusing," Virgil said, shutting the laptop and shoving it roughly into the Cap-Bearer's bag.
"Yes he is," Norman argued, chortling.
"You're not helping."
"I'm helping the Mighty One. Isn't that what counts?" Norman asked pointedly. His old friend ignored him and poked the boy who was now lying flat on his back, gasping.
"Come on, let's go," Virgil said irritably.
"I can't, I'm busy," Max wheezed.
"Doing what?"
"Bothering you."
"Yes, well," Virgil said, his good nature beginning to show through as a smile crept across his beak in spite of the mockery, "failing as you are at that particular endeavor, it is well past the time we told your mother to expect us." He extended a feathered hand to pull Max to an upright position.
"That's true, Mighty One," Norman pointed out, rising to his feet.
"Will you at least admit that you're a chicken now?" the Cap-Bearer asked as he gathered the rest of his things.
"I will do no such thing."
"But we have scientific proof!" Max exclaimed.
"Which you know is unfair and biased. And I will thank you to remember that, Mighty One," Virgil said, glaring at his young charge.
"All right," Max said reluctantly, swinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. "But you might not really want to come with us, Virg..."
"Why not?"
"Because remember: a chicken going through a portal is poultry in motion..."