Disclaimer: I own nothing, I own nothing, isn't that something, what a stupid poem . . .

REVIEWS! (screams in joy) Wa-hoo! (insert smiley face here) I thought you guys were NEVER going to review . . .

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the reviews, I love them all . . . hehe . . . (hugs self)

As you can see, I'm in a very . . . umm . . . happy . . . mood. Yeah. Anyway, I'd like to thank the wonderful marvellous awesome fantastic Kyra Skye for giving me the idea for this chapter (chicky)! YOU ROCK!

As to Blossum, who knows exactly who she is, I have no idea why I put the ghost/invisible avocado (THAT'S how you spell that word)/nonexistant hat in the previous chapter. The answer? I guess I just wanted to do it . . . . . . .

Yeah . . .

So, to those who haven't shrieked 'shoot you!' and scrolled down to the insane part, thus not reading this right now, if you want more on Tawny I wrote a poem (actually it's a song) entitled 'Tawny Goes To Hogwarts', which is a chapter in Harry Potter Poetry. That song should only be sung by Kender, the insane, and the hyperactive and/or caffinated. Since we all fit into those catagories, screw this and read!

Whoa, this is long . . . and this chapter is supposed to be short . . .

Thanks for reading, enjoy the insanity!

Chapter Sixteen! No Longer Ten but SIXTEEN! Yayyyyyyyyy!

(Shut UP already!)

Ahem . . .

My Chicky Minions

(CHICKY!)

Palmerblinked. Suddenly, her vision had inexplicibly been tinted . . . pink. No, not pink-purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No, purple. No, pink. No-

"IT TURNED PURPLE-PINK ALREADY!" A blue gremlin shrieked, tearing at it's blue hair in frusteration. Little blue gremlins, as you can see, have very short tolerence levels.

But Palmer was not listening. Cramming her valuables into her pouches, she staggered to her feet, swaying drunkenly and giggling. Shoving her long, multi-colored hair out of her face, she jumped onto the railing of the stairs and fung up her hands.

"My minions approach! TEHEE!" she screehed. The sleeping, markered patrons in the Inn jumped to their feet and clutched their ears, faces screwed up in agony.

The Little Blue Gremlin sighed and hopped up with the crazed kendermaid, shaking his head. He looked where she was looking, and he saw . . .

Chickens. A big, big herd of rampaging, running, wild, crazed, Moon-Loonerized chickens, approaching . . .

"What the heck!" The LBG shrieked.

"They answer my summons!" cried Palmer, flinging up her arms. "Behold-my chicky minions!"

The chickens lined up under her and stared. "Bwa-booook?" one asked.

"MY MINIONS! MY CHICKY MINIONS!" Palmer cried. The chickens . . . bwa-boooked.

Yeah.

OK . . .

Sure.

Back to the story:

"My minions, join me in my quest for . . . the holy Spoon of Human Sanity Annihilating!" Palmer declared. "Chickens rule!"

(Suddenly, out of nowhere, the music to the Chicken Dance begins to play . . . very loudly . . . )

"Chick-ky!" cried Palmer, begining to do the Horrible Dreaded Chicken Dance. "Chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, chick-ky, CHICKY!"

All the chickens began to cluck in rhythm with their insane mistress, and they all began to do . . .

. . . that's right, ladies and gents, take a guess . . .

The chicken dance.

O, the horror! The chickeny horror!

(Insert Darth Vader music here)

So, now we have a bunch of chanting, dancing chickens and a kender on a quest for the Holy Spoon of Human Sanity Annihilating! (it works on dwarves, elves, and orcs, too) while some very crazy music blares from some unknown place . . .

Wow, what whacko wrote this?

. . . wait . . .

Oh, yeah . . .

While the authoress was talking to herself and not paying a shred of attention to her characters, Palmer grabbed her hoopak and raised it into the air.

"We are the chickys!" she screamed. "no longer the food for a human table. WE WILL NOT BE PUT DOWN! WE WILL REBEL! WE ARE THE CHICKYS!"

All the chickens: "Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky! Chick-ky!"

Sort of makes you wonder how chickens learned to talk, doesn't it?

duh duh duh-duh duhduh, duh duh duh-duh duhduh, duh duh duh-duh duhduh, CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP, duh duh duh-duh duhduh, duh duh duh-duh duhduh, duh duh duh-duh duhduh, CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP, went the music, blaring from some unknown source as the chickens and their kender mistress chanted and danced.

"Come, my chicky minions! Away we go, on out holy quest! And on the way, we will drive random people insane!" Palmer waved her hoopak around, than jumped off the railing. Flying squirrels caught her and bore to her the ground: there, waving her hoopak and still dancing and chanting, she and her chicky minions rampaged out the clearing and into the woods . . . which were twigs in mere seconds.

And awat went Palmer Shamrock and her chicky minions.

Sorry for the shortness, hoped you liked! The mental images I had while writing this . . . hehe . . .

Anyway, thanks to all who review! And check your chicken before you eat it . . . it might have purple-pink powder in it . . .

Anyway, again, review! Please!