(AN: Hooray for DVDs! When my dad and brother came to visit me, we went shopping in Omaha and I bought Garfield and Friends Volume 4 on DVD. Talk about a whole new source for inspiration! Although I've had other things fighting for my time—namely homework—I simply can't put this off anymore. So here's chapter 6! Thanks again so much for the nice reviews.)

O.o.O

The next day, Orson had called a meeting… but only three people showed up.

"Bo, Lanolin, and Wade…" he counted to himself. "Plus me is four. Aren't there usually seven of us?"

"Like, they've all beaten a hasty retreat, remember?" said Bo.

"Oh… right." Orson's face fell. It had only been one day, but things without Roy, Booker, and Sheldon were already painfully different.

"What did you call the meeting for, pray tell?" Wade asked.

Orson cleared his throat. "Well, it's kind of a touchy subject… but to discuss the new rooster Buck."

No sooner had the words left his mouth when Wade gave a shriek of terror and Lanolin uttered a loud curse and made a very offensive finger gesture.

"Lanolin!" cried Orson, aghast.

"What's there to discuss?" Lanolin cried. "We all know he's a pig-headed jerk."

"I take offense at that," snapped Orson.

"Oops, sorry," said Lanolin, blushing a little. "But you know what I mean, right?"

"We can't be that quick to judge him," Orson said, trying unsuccessfully to calm Lanolin down. "This is only his third day here!"

"Look, Orson," Lanolin began, "you can't be so thick that—"

Wade suddenly slapped his wing over Lanolin's mouth. "Let me handle this," he said calmly. He turned to Orson, kept his calm face for about five seconds, and then snapped. "HE'S GOING TO TURN THIS ENTIRE FARM INTO ZOMBIES AND NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO STOP HIM! May I flee in panic and terror now?"

"I'd rather you not…" said Orson.

"Okay then," said Wade agreeably, "I'll just flee in terror and panic then. HELP! GET THIS MAD ROOSTER OFF OF OUR FARM! DO SOMETHING WHILST I HIDE IN A SAFE AND SECURE PLACE! HEEEEEELP!"

He ran off into the distance screaming.

"I rest my case," said Lanolin smugly.

"Like, sure he agrees with you and all, sis, but Wade acts that way over everything," pointed out Bo.

"Look," snapped Lanolin at her brother, "are you trying to support this ego-trip, or do you want him off the farm like the rest of us do?"

"I would like to hear your opinion on the matter, Bo," said Orson. Sometimes Bo was a little off the wall, but he usually had something worthwhile to say, no matter how many "likes" were thrown in.

"Well, dude, when Ducko said something about the zombies or whatever, I think he's right, you know, at least with those hens. Like, if he told them to roast us over an open fire, I think they would, man."

"Those are the hens, though," said Orson, frantically trying to cast out some of the negativity. "How could he have that effect on us? We're not chickens, and we're not females… except for you, Lanolin, and I know how much you hate him."

"But have you seen what he does with Wade?" Lanolin said. "Wade's TERRIFIED of this guy, and not in just your typical Wade way, either. I've never seen him like this before. You've got to admit that his reactions are pretty severe, even for Wade!"

"Well…" Orson hesitated.

"Won't you wake up and smell the magnolias?" Lanolin finally snapped. "This guy is bad news, and we need him out of here right now!"

"But we can't!" Orson finally cried. "Not until Roy comes back! We need a rooster around here!"

Lanolin threw an upset undercut punch in the air. "Well, we'd better hope that Jeanie or whatever her name was finds him soon."

"Joanna," corrected Orson. "And I don't know how soon she will. She's more concerned with finding Booker and Sheldon."

"But, dude, she did say that she'd try to find Roy too," reminded Bo. "She said we'd be sick of him before too long."

"And boy, was she right," muttered Lanolin.

Orson sighed in resignation. "Maybe you're right," he said jadedly. "Maybe he is an evil dictator, or whatever it is. But you understand that I can't get rid of him until Roy comes back. We need a rooster around here."

"Then we should look for Roy too!" cried Lanolin. "Spread out, cover all the bases—"

"That would be a disaster," interrupted Orson. "Who knows, Joanna might have already found him, and the rest of us would all be running around trying to find him, when there's so much work to be done here… it's nearly harvest time!"

He put his arms on Lanolin's shoulders, nearly comfortingly. "You've never really met Joanna, but I have, and I know she won't come back till she finds all three of them."

"Like, besides," said Bo, staring at the chicken coup, "the remaining chicks seem to be handling things fine by themselves."

Orson and Lanolin turned their heads and gawked at what they saw. Buck had tore out of the coup, his tail feathers on fire.

"Why you little—!" he roared.

"Don't think I'm finished with you!" yelled a chick, from a group of about eight who were all laughing heartily. "The Tonya Treatment has only just begun!"

"I like her," said Lanolin. "She'll drive this guy out before long."

"And then we won't have a rooster," sighed Orson.

"Like, one of us had better be practicing their 'cock-a-doodle-doo'," laughed Bo.

O.o.O

Booker had no clue of his sister's current merriment, of his friends' worry over the new rooster, of the fact that his brother had gone out after him, or even of his mother's panic at his disappearance.

All he knew was that he had no clue of where he was, and that he was hungry.

"I wonder if there's any worms around here…" he mused to himself. Hmph. Well, even if there were, it wasn't like he'd ever caught one before in his entire life.

Every bit of chicken instinct in him perked up, listening and feeling the ground underneath his feet for worms. It wasn't long before he felt a subtle movement underneath him.

He immediately assumed his "hunter in pursuit of prey" pose and froze, biding his time before he struck. He could feel the worm moving closer and closer to him… now was the time to act… he leaned over, preparing to strike, and then—

Something dark and furry suddenly shot out of the ground, causing Booker to scream and fall backwards.

"Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to scare you."

Booker sat up, gasped for breath, and stared at the newcomer, who had his worm in his mouth, slurping it down like a piece of spaghetti. It was a mole.

"Hey!" cried Booker indignantly. "I wanted that worm!"

"Are you hungry?" the mole asked.

Booker nodded.

And suddenly, the mole shot back in the ground again. A second later he was back on the surface, another worm in his mouth.

"All yours," he said, his voice muffled because of the worm.

Booker grabbed it and slurped it down. He could almost feel a ray of sunshine glowing down on him—he had only eaten a worm once before, when his mother had caught one and let him have a taste. That one taste had been the spark of an obsession to get another… and now that obsession was complete.

"I'd almost forgotten how good they tasted!" said Booker, with a dreamy smile.

"So, what's a kid like you doing off on your own?" the mole asked.

"I'm running away, that's what," snapped Booker.

"Hmm, running away," said the mole thoughtfully. "From whom or what, might I ask?"

"Everything!" cried Booker. "My parents, my sister, everyone who treats me like a stupid little kid!"

"Hmm, yes, I see," said the mole. "Well, you are free to stay with me as long as you want. All the worms you can eat."

Booker brightened. "Thanks!" he cried.

The mole offered his small, folded paw. "My name is Kiral. What's yours?"

"Booker," said the chick, taking Kiral by the hand and shaking it.

"Well, Booker, do you want to come down to my hole and make yourself at home?" asked Kiral.

Booker shrugged. "Sure."

"Well, come on down! You're the next contestant on—"

A snap of a twig interrupted Kiral. He and Booker turned around, only to see—

"Roy!" cried Booker. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" cried Roy, indignant. "What are you doing here?"

"Stop following me!" cried Booker. "I don't care what you say to me, I ran away and I'm not coming back!"

"Whoa, stop and rewind!" yelled Roy, throwing his wings out to silence Booker. "I had no clue you ran away. Because that's what I'm doing."

"You're running away?" asked Booker, blinking. "But why?"

"Because everyone likes that pretty boy Buffy Bucky better than me," said Roy in a dramatic sad tone of voice.

Kiral smiled at Roy. "Well, I just let your little friend Booker stay with me as long as he chose to. You can too!"

"I don't want to stay with him!" cried Booker, pointing an accusing wing at Roy. "He's one of the people I ran away from in the first place!"

"Hold it, pip-squeak. What did I ever do to you?"

"You… well, you…"

"I think maybe you two need some rekindling," said Kiral genially. "You two should stay together. It would be better for both of you."

"I never said I had any problems sharing lodgings with you," said Roy with a shrug. "We're nothing but two poor, destitute runaways, brought together by fate and an overly friendly mole."

"Would you quit with the fancy talk?" cried Booker.

"I'll stay, and you will too, Booker," said Roy authoritatively. "This mole guy can help us eat all the worms we'd ever want!"

Booker pouted. "Oh, fine!" he finally conceded.

O.o.O

Sheldon had, unfortunately, chosen a different route than his brother had, and was by now miles away from both the farm and Booker.

"This is hopeless," he mumbled to himself, sitting down to think. Booker could have gone anywhere, and all Sheldon was doing was walking around looking for a fed up chick! There could be millions of those, as far as he knew. Especially where he was now—another farm.

"Alright Mom!" a child's voice rang out. Sheldon immediately stuck his legs in his shell, not wishing to be seen.

But he still could see through his shell, and what he saw startled him immensely—the child leaned down to stare at him. "Hmm, another egg. I must have missed one." He picked Sheldon up.

Sheldon was panicked. "I'm not an egg!" he wanted to yell, but if he did, the kid would surely drop him and crack his shell. But where was the kid going to put him? What if he stuck him in a carton of eggs… to be eaten!

"Billy, could you check the hens to see if they've laid any more eggs?" a faint female voice called from the house. "I'm an egg short for your birthday cake."

"I've got one right here, Mommy!" cried the boy, running into the house.

Now Sheldon was twice as panicked.

Billy handed Sheldon to his mother. "Thanks, Billy," said the woman, taking Sheldon, holding him over the bowl, and…

Sheldon had to do something! Anything!

But it was too late.

With a sound hit, the woman cracked Sheldon's shell and Sheldon—the real, chick Sheldon—fell into a very mushy bowl.

Both Billy and his mother screamed.

O.o.O

(AN: Heh, I think I've broken an unwritten (or maybe even written) rule of Garfield and Friends—Sheldon can never hatch. But hey, it's not like he hatched intentionally. Poor Sheldon! And poor you, because I just left you at a cliffhanger. I'll see you next chapter!)