(AN: CURSE YOU, WRITER'S BLOCK! YOU ARE THE BANE OF MY EXISTANCE!
Writer's block sucks. I didn't have it on this story—okay, I kind of did. But I also had it on my two other stories that I'm working on now, and on my story, and on a story I'm writing for purely my own enjoyment, and on two things for my creative writing class, and for two essays I have for different classes.
I'm worried I'm losing my writing touch… but if there's one thing I don't do, that's leave a story unfinished. I'll get those final chapters up, crummy as they may be! Of course, you guys are lucky—this is the story that's easiest for me to write right now. Wheee for humorous stories! Here's chapter seven—thanks again for the reviews!)
O.o.O
The first thing that hit Sheldon was how clear everything sounded.
Many people—most notably his mother—had heaped all the benefits of hatching onto his stubborn ears, the most profound ones being how much clearer his senses would be. Sheldon had protested that one; he could see and hear perfectly fine. But no, Joanna had been adamant on that point—"You only think you do because you don't know any better!"
Sheldon had shrugged that one off, but now, as he leapt out of the mixing bowl, seeing the yellow yolks so brightly that they almost blinded him, and hearing with shocking clarity the screams of Billy and his mother, in the back of his mind, he conceded that his mother had been right.
"BILLY!" shrieked the mother. Sheldon clutched his wings over his ears. "There's a CHICKEN in this egg! Where did you FIND this egg? We don't have any roosters on this farm! How could—Catch it Billy, catch it!"
For Sheldon had decided not to just hang around and listen to the woman try to decide exactly where he had come from. He was hauling tail feathers outta there!
"Get it Billy! It's getting away!"
Sheldon tore out the door, with a confused and frightened little boy coming up not-too-fast on his heels.
"He's getting away, Mommy!" cried the boy, as Sheldon darted into the unmowed grass.
And then he stopped and stood completely still. The kid was pretty young, and maybe, when he didn't see the grass move, he would assume that Sheldon was gone.
And sure enough…
"He's gone, Mommy!" cried Billy to his mother.
"Oh well… but I wonder where that egg came from? Well, get me another egg then, but make sure you pull it out from underneath one of our chickens!"
Sheldon breathed a sigh of relief, and, once he heard Billy leave, ran as fast as he could away from the house, away from the horror, away from his shell…
His shell!
With his right wing, he brushed off a tiny piece of shell that was still clinging to his left wing and inspected it.
"Wow…" he breathed to himself. "I actually… hatched."
Yeah, he hatched alright. And he'd never felt so vulnerable in his life! Anyone could see him now and harm him… this was why he had never intended on leaving the safety of his shell!
His eyes darted around in total panic as he desperately tried to keep himself under control, as he could feel a huge wave of panic start to sweep through his insides. "It's not that big of deal," he muttered to himself. "Booker's done it. Tonya's done it. All of my siblings have. In fact, just about every other chicken on earth has."
His run was reborn when the panic became too great to control. He ran and ran and ran—and very nearly fell in a puddle.
Stopping himself just in time, Sheldon balanced precariously on his legs, successfully but with great effort avoiding the plunge. However, he nearly lost his balance again when he saw his reflection in the puddle.
He was… a freak!
"Mom was right!" cried Sheldon in horror, staring at his repulsive reflection in disbelief. "My growth was stunted!"
His entire body—save his very normal looking legs—was almost dwarfish and compact. It probably wouldn't have been noticeable if it hadn't been for those feet—but they had grown outside of the shell at a normal rate, and thus made him look like his legs were about three sizes too big!
"Well… maybe my growth will pick now that I've—perish the thought—hatched," mused Sheldon to himself, watching with wonder his reflection and the way his beak moved as he talked. He had never seen himself—the real Sheldon, not the shell he hid behind—at all before, and while the sight was at first ghastly and almost comical (he could hear Tonya's insane laughter already), it was a very moving experience to finally see himself for the first time.
He turned away from his reflection and looked at the scenery around him and gasped. Never, ever had he imagined how beautiful things were! True, he hadn't been blind, even inside his shell. He could see. A little. But… yes, he had to admit, his mother was right, more often than he gave her credit for. He hadn't known how much more there was out there. How can you even begin to imagine such wonders like this when you've spent your whole life in a self-induced exile?
The sun was beginning to set. The sky was streaked with gentle brushes of red and gold, and it was reflecting off of the puddle he had nearly tumbled in to, as well as off of a small pond nearby, and the lilly pads on the pond, turning that whole body of water into a sparkling of blue and green against a yellowish-red sky.
It was beautiful.
Funny how those papers he had read only mentioned the bad things about the world, Sheldon reflected to himself. It seemed to him that these good things, while certainly not eliminating the bad, surely seemed to make the bad more bearable.
And he wasn't even really listening either… oh, how clear the wind blowing through the grass sounded! He had never heard that before. Nor had he heard the soft sound of a leaf settling to the ground, nor the distant cries of someone yelling, "Booker! Booker, is that you?"
Wait a minute…
Before Sheldon could contemplate that, he found himself swept off the ground in a crushing hug from his hysterical mother. "Booker, thank God I found you! You could have been lost, or hurt, or Lord forbid even killed—"
"Mom! I'm not Booker! It's me, Sheldon!"
Joanna dropped her son in astonishment.
"…Sheldon? Sheldon?" She looked him over quickly. "My God! It is you, Sheldon! You finally hatched!"
"Not voluntarily," Sheldon grumbled.
"Well? What happened?" Joanna asked, peering at him.
"Well… this little kid picked me up and gave me to his mom, and she was baking a cake or something, and…"
"She cracked you open?"
"Yeah, and—"
Sheldon was unable to get another word out, however. Joanna had collapsed on the ground, shaking with uncontrollable laughter.
"It's not funny!" cried Sheldon. "I've never been so scared in my life!"
Joanna, nearly paralyzed with merriment, had tears rolling down her face. "Oh my… ha ha!... my dear Lord… she thought—hee hee!—she thought you were for—" she snorted "—eating?"
"Mom! I was terrified!"
Joanna finally managed to get up off the ground, wiping away the last tears from her face. "Of course, Sheldon… I have to admit, given the circumstances, I would have been too." She shot him a stern glance. "But it serves you right for the complete sense of panic you and your brother had me in! Why did you two run away?"
"I went out looking for Booker, just like you!" cried Sheldon.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"You probably would have tried to stop me…"
"And with good reason. You're just a chick, Sheldon! The world out here is dangerous—and I thought that you, more than anyone else, knew that! I mean, come on, you never even hatched!"
"Well, I… you couldn't expect me to just say back at the coup! I had to go find him! He's my best friend!"
Joanna sighed. "I know, Sheldon. I know." She scooped him up and hugged him again, albeit more gently. "I know how close you two are. But just understand… I've been worried ever since I realized that both of you were gone."
Sheldon shrugged. "Well, don't blame me. Booker's the one who started this all."
"Yes, that little rascal. You haven't found him yet, I'm assuming?"
"Nope."
"I hope he's okay," Joanna murmured. "And I hope we can find Roy too… he ran away too, you know."
"He did?" Sheldon asked.
His mother sighed again. "Yes, he sure did. We had three runaways in one day. Those other friends of yours seemed worried about all three of you too."
Sheldon could feel himself blush in slight shame. His mother smiled at him.
"It's so nice to finally see my own son's face," she said affectionately.
Sheldon grinned, almost bigger knowing that his facial expression was finally able to be seen. "Yeah, well, it's nice to see my own face."
Booker was a bit off the mark, Sheldon decided. Not only was their mom, apparently, right about most things, but she was also pretty nice.
O.o.O
Meanwhile, back on the farm…
Buck stretched out in a relaxed pose on his lawn chair, soaking up the last rays of light from the setting sun. He took a contented drink from his drink—and then spit it out in disgust.
The expected sound of aggravating chicks laughing soon followed.
"You damned kids!" he roared, throwing the glass in the direction from where the laughing seemed to be coming from. It hit the ground and shattered… and, from behind various bushes, eight chicks leapt out of harm's way.
"Don't you little beasts have anything better to do?" he snarled at them.
"Well, we've already done our chores," said the girl that he had threatened yesterday, the ringleader of the bunch, the one they called "Tonya". "But I see you haven't yet, you swine. Too busy with your other work, huh?"
"You little brats should respect your elders!" snapped Buck. "And that included NOT tampering with their drinks? What exactly did you put in that, anyway?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" taunted Tonya. "And respect our elders? You're one to talk. You don't even respect your peers!"
Buck stormed up to the insolent little wench-in-training and grabbed her roughly by the neck again.
I'm going to have permanent scars on my neck, Tonya thought to herself as she experienced a sense of deja-vu from yesterday.
"Tonya!" gasped all of her siblings, finally seeing the abuse that their sister had endured yesterday.
"I'm going to give you and your snot-nosed siblings ten seconds to get out of here."
Tonya wasn't about to be daunted. "What if it takes us eleven?"
"Then you won't live to see twelve."
The other seven chicks gasped. Tonya, however, just grunted dismissively.
"Ooh, siblings, look at the tough guy. I think I will stick around, just to see what he does."
"You idiot," sneered Buck. "Don't you realize that I could pull you in half right now?"
"Then why don't you?" Tonya shot back.
Buck could sense an attack on his abilities whenever he was faced with one. "Listen, girly, I could rip apart a rooster my own size like he was a ragdoll. A little female chick like you is child's play."
Tonya had noticed the slight emphasis he put on the word "female". "Oh. So you're sexist, too. Somehow I'm not surprised."
Buck suddenly and rather rudely dropped Tonya on the ground. Tonya rubbed her bottom in pain as Orson walked up.
"Uh… what's going on here?" Orson asked. He had thought he saw Buck nearly strangle the chick, but surely his eyes were deceiving him… sure, so Buck wasn't the nicest guy around. But downright violent?
"Nothing, nothing," said Buck dismissively. "I was just spending some quality bonding time with the chicks here."
"And that was quality, alright," snapped Tonya. She glared at Buck. "We'll be back tomorrow. Same old, same old. I bet you're getting tired of this, aren't you?"
Buck started to glare, but remembering Orson's presence, he very painfully forced his mouth into a fake smile… although his eyes were still burning with loathing of that insolent little hen as she led her siblings back to the coup.
Orson, not knowing what to make of that scene, decided to just ignore it. "Um, Buck, you haven't done your chores for the day yet, and it's almost nighttime—"
"Oh my!" Buck cried with feigned surprise. "I had almost forgotten. Thanks for reminding me, Owen! I'll get on them right away."
"Actually, my name's Orson—"
Buck didn't stay to listen, however. He picked up his lawn chair and strode off to the rooster's roost.
Orson shrugged. "Well, at least he's actually willing to do his chores. Maybe there's hope for him after all."
O.o.O
"DUCK! Get in here, NOW!"
After his holler, Buck glanced at his watch. "One, two…" he counted.
Just as he said the word "three", Wade ran in clumsily, nearly tripping on his own feet. "Y-yes, master, your grace, your—"
"Enough, enough." Buck waved his wing dismissively. "Have you done your chores for today, duck?"
"Oh yeah," nodded Wade, "I harvested the vegetable garden and started working on organizing the supply shed. …Why do you asketh?"
"Wonderful, wonderful! That gives you all the time in the world to do mine!"
Wade hesitated. "But, uh, sir, uh…" His voice was hardly more than a whisper. "The chores on our farm are equally divided so each member has the same responsibility—"
Buck interrupted Wade by grabbing him by the throat and holding him up in the air, just as he had done with Tonya. "Do them. Now."
Wade's eyes had never gone so wide, nor his pupils so dilated. "Y-y-yes, master!" he gasped.
Buck dropped Wade roughly to the ground and handed him a sheet of paper with three chores listed on it. "Here. And you'd better do them right."
Wade was too terrified to even speak by this time. He merely nodded dumbly and, still gasping for breath, took the list.
"Oh, and duck, I'll be with the hens tonight, so please. Don't disturb me." With that, the arrogant rooster spun around and strode out of the building, leaving the petrified duck on the ground, unable to do anything but shake uncontrollably.
O.o.O
(AN: Wow, I'm really starting to hate Buck! And he's going to do even worse things to Wade pretty soon—aaw, poor Wade! He and Roy are my favorite characters from this segment of the show. :) Anyway, I again apologize for the wait, but like I said earlier, get used to it—I'm not able to write very often, and I've got two other stories I have to write too. But I most certainly will not give up on this story—I'm loving it too much! I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. See you next chapter!)