(AN: Can't you predict my next words? I apologize for not updating sooner. However, this time, I have at least a semi-valid excuse. I was on a three week vacation on Ye Merry Olde England. But now I'm back in boring old Nebraska, and I shall update for yoooooou!)
O.o.O
Orson was walking Booker back to the henhouse.
"You really shouldn't get so bent out of shape about this," said Orson comfortingly. "Just because you think your parents are… well, malevolent, doesn't mean that you're going to be like them. And besides—"
"If you're going to tell me that my parents aren't all that bad, then save your breath!" snapped Booker.
"Alright…" sighed Orson. He and Booker had now reached the top of a hill and were looking down at the henhouse. "Hey, what's going on down there?"
Booker peered down. "Probably all the hens have a new beauty secret on how to preen their feathers…"
"Wait!" Orson pointed down, presumably near the center of the circles the hens had formed. "There's a dark chicken down there, and none of our hens are dark, right? They all have white feathers!"
Squinting, Booker leaned down to see better. "You're right! I wonder who that is?"
"Well, let's go find out." Orson started running down the hill, Booker quickly following behind.
Orson finished his run down the hill, stopped to catch his breath, and spotted Roy and Joanna, watching the rest of the hens and the newcomer leave. The expressions on their faces couldn't have been more different—Joanna looked bemused and almost charmed, while Roy looked livid and about to explode.
"What's going on here?" Orson asked them. Joanna opened her beak to speak, but Roy beat her to it.
"Oh, nothing much… just some new pretty-boy rooster is moving in. Why didn't you tell me that we were getting a new rooster, huh?"
Orson threw his hands in the air in a sort of helpless gesture. "I had no idea! Who brought him here? And who is he?"
Joanna managed to speak first. "The farmer thought that Roy was having too much of a workload, apparently. He was very thoughtful—" she glared at Roy "—to do that, wasn't he, Roy dear?"
"Thoughtful?!" Roy shot Joanna a look of pure exasperation and rage. "His 'thoughtfulness' has probably lost me my job!"
"Roy, I really think you're overreacting," said Orson sensibly. "Remember when you first came here? We had three roosters!"
"You don't understand!" shrieked Roy. "They were old, they let me come in, they wanted me here! And I let them keep their position, because I knew that soon I would be the only rooster here! But this 'buffy Bucky' isn't old… I think he's younger than me, actually, and he certainly intends on staying! You can see it in his eyes… not only is he staying, but he wants to be the only rooster here! I might as well leave now!" Roy threw his hands in the air in the same manner that Orson had just moments before and stormed off.
"And I'm gonna grow up and have to go through all that?" Booker asked after a short silence. "I'd rather stay a kid my whole life!"
"That's why I'm staying in here," piped up Sheldon.
Orson sighed again. "Well, I suppose we'd better find out all we can about this 'buffy Bucky'…"
O.o.O
"Buffy Bucky", meanwhile, decided that he should find out all he could about the farm.
Having managed to shake the hens off of him (it took quite a bit of effort), Buck was now strolling about the farm, seeing what else was there besides hens, although they wouldn't be nearly as significant as those lovely ladies (wink, wink!).
He hadn't gone far before he got to the sheep pasture. In past years, there had often been more than a dozen sheep grazing the farm, but for awhile now there had been only two—Bo and Lanolin, brother and sister. The two sheep were, for once, not working. Instead, they were stretched out on lawn chairs, soaking up the sun.
Bo sat up, noticing Buck. He took off his sunglasses and blinked. "Like, check out the new rooster, sis," he drawled to his sister.
Lanolin removed her sunglasses and sat up. "What do you mean, new rooster?" she snapped. "Isn't one enough?"
Buck strolled up snottily to the sheep. "Aah, good morning, my wooly friends. My name is Buck, and I am new to the farm."
"Like, nice to meet you and all, man, but we do already have a rooster," said Bo matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I know that," said Buck with a sort of haughty laugh. "I'm here to help him. I can't imagine how he could handle all the duties by himself! Being a rooster is hard work!"
Lanolin snorted out loud. Roy's tasks were miniscule, and he spent more of his time cracking jokes and pulling pranks, it hardly seemed that he would need any help… unless Buck would be a guinea pig for Roy's practical jokes. "Oh, I'm sure—" she began.
"But anyway, I must be going," interrupted Buck shortly. "I can't waste all my time talking to dim-witted sheep."
"WHAT?!" shrieked Lanolin, eyes burning fire.
Buck laughed. "Come now, you know that sheep are the stupidest of all farm animals! Every science book says it!"
Lanolin leapt off her lawn chair, fury swallowing up her entire body. "Yeah, well, I've heard that chickens ain't exactly Einsteins either!"
"Aah, but I am the exception," said Buck, not missing a beat. "You two are the rule." With that remark, he left, walking towards the barn.
"Jeez, calm down, sis," said Bo, backing up a bit. He had seen his sister mad before, but never like this.
"Whose… whose bright idea was it to bring a new rooster! Man, give me Roy any day over that creep!"
"Like, have to agree with you there for once," admitted Bo. "Did you see that look in his eyes? Too sneaky for my tastes. Not cool, man."
Lanolin kicked at some of the dirt. "I wonder if anyone else has met this piece of work?"
O.o.O
Actually, at the time Lanolin said that, the only creature left on the farm that didn't know of Buck's presence was Wade. The pusillanimous duck was curled up in a corner of the barn, shivering with fear, thinking of terrible unknown hereditary secrets.
"Oh terror and dread, what if I really am the descendant of Louis Pasteur? And I have drunk non-pasteurized milk before! The ghost of my great-great-great-great-great-great-etcetera grandfather shall surely come to haunt me!"
Wade stopped shivering suddenly. "Wait… how could I be the long-lost descendant of Louis Pasteur? He was a human!" He wiped his brow in relief. "Phew! Getting worried there…" His breath stopped. "But… I am a duck… what if I am a descendant of Donald? Or Daffy? Or both!" Wade resumed his shivering.
At that precise moment, Buck flung open the barn door and surveyed the barn. Wade let out a yelp and dove under a pile of straw.
Buck laughed that haughty, almost cruel laugh of his. "Now what have we got here?" he asked, kicking away some of the straw… and Wade, too. Wade whimpered.
"You… you kicked me," he moaned inaudibly.
"So I did," smirked Buck. Wade forced himself to look up at his oppressor. He could feel terror—well, a normal feeling for him, but almost more terror than usual—suddenly spring up in his stomach the moment he looked into Buck's eyes. He had never seen eyes like that before. They weren't like Orson's brothers' eyes, which revealed nothing but ignorant greed instead of evil; they weren't even like the weasel's eyes, which gave the weasel the look of a sly yet nervous smuggler. This new rooster's eyes were dark, cold, and merciless… and they seemed to be laughing at him.
Buck seemed to realize just how much he was terrifying the duck. "I'm thirsty," he snapped. "Get me a drink of water."
"But…" Wade began, but didn't finish.
Buck grabbed Wade roughly by the neck and pulled him up, so close to his face that their beaks were nearly touching. "Now."
"Y-y-yes, Master!" whimpered Wade. Buck dropped Wade rudely, and in less than three seconds Wade had shot out the door to do his bidding.
Buck smiled and leaned against the wall. "I think I'm gonna like it here."
O.o.O
(AN: Kinda short, I know. But at least it's something! I'm gonna try my hardest to update soon, but you all know my record. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and putting up with my laziness! See you at chapter four, whenever it might be. :) )