This is a fanfic. All Labyrinth characters belong to Henson, et al.
NIGHT HAWKS
Chapter Two
The Fox in the Henhouse
Didymus had a way with the ladies. He kissed their hands and called them "My Lady" and held doors open for them. He gallantly defended their honor and guarded them against wise guys. He was always ready to take charge and be their protector. He was kind, generous and unfailingly true. In short, he was the Underground community of scarlet ladies' favorite pimp.
He had returned to the tastefully decorated main house of the Chicken Farm after an evening at the Café, bearing gifts of silk and brocade for his beloved ladies. He considered himself to be a valiant protector of innocent virtue. Didymus thought that the many boyfriends that came to the Chicken Farm were an indicator of the popularity and comeliness of the maidens that resided there. He believed that the money these boyfriends gave him was a result of their support of this charitable institute for orphaned young women. He believed that the ladies and their boyfriends retired to their rooms to play short games of Scrabble. Didymus was an idiot.
He was a useful idiot, however. With his foxy good looks and confident strut, Didymus was a striking figure in his fine, tailored, gabardine suit with feathered fedora, his rakish facial fur and intriguing eye patch. The fact that he openly carried a machine gun also contributed to his intimidating presence. The fact that the machine gun had no bullets in the belt was not immediately obvious and most folks dispersed at the first sight of the weapon before taking a second look at the belt. Despite his tales of daring, Didymus had never fired the machine gun and was oblivious to the fact that it was empty. Didymus was an idiot.
He was their idiot, though, and the ladies of the Chicken Farm told fanciful stories of his daring and dangerousness that gradually became legend, and that carefully cultivated legend protected them as well as an actual, competent, guardian would have. They gave him the name of The One-Eyed Pimp and the fame of their mythical knight spread far and wide. Didymus was considered by outsiders to be as dangerous as a rabid wolverine with a hangover and a chainsaw.
The One-Eyed Pimp took his duties seriously and the money placed in his paws by the boyfriends paid for food, shelter, extravagant clothing, jewelry and little fancies for his ladies. The money he lavished on his dear ladies went through his paws like Olestra potato chips through a dysenteric goose.
This happy state of affairs might have lasted indefinitely if it were not for the other denizens of the Chicken Farm. The Old Man knew precisely what sort of place the Chicken Farm was and so did his sentient Hat that spent its time mouthing off at the ladies. The Old Man was not as careful or as considerate with the money as Didymus and his investments were as rotten as an unidentified furry green item in a refrigerator in Denmark. Unfortunately for Didymus, the Old Man frequently involved Didymus' name, if not his knowledge, in his financial shenanigans.
Things at the Chicken Farm could have become ugly right quick except for the fact that the Old Man was in fact, extremely old, in fact he was too old to care, if you know what I mean. The Hat wasn't too old, and it tried to attract the ladies' attention by wearing snazzy ties. This had caused problems when the ties fell into the Old Man's eyes and he had insisted that the Hat confine itself to bowties. Unfortunately for the Hat, it merely consisted of a felt trilby with a mouthy bird head attached. It didn't constitute much of a threat and was soundly ignored by the Old Man, Didymus and the ladies. It was especially ignored by the ladies, who felt that a bowtie attached to the brim of a trilby hat looked ridiculous.
There were fifteen ladies residing at the Chicken Farm and they got along about as well as fifteen different beings from various fairy tale backgrounds and species could, which is to say, sometimes not that well.
On this night, a lady elf and a lady goblin had differences which had nearly come to blows when Didymus walked in with his fifteen silk scarves and fifteen brocade jackets in all the correct sizes and favorite colors.
Angelica the elf was staring down Emily the goblin. Angelica had made an unfortunate comment about goblin hairdressers which offended Emily mightily, considering Emily's father was both a goblin and a hairdresser. Emily had made some nasty personal comments about Angelica and the fight was on. Their boyfriends had been left to stew in the parlor while the ladies screamed at each other. In fact, all commercial activities had ceased for the duration of the conflict as all of the ladies and some of the boyfriends had decided to take in the fight.
Didymus was appalled at the unladylike behavior being displayed and gasped "My Ladies, contain yourselves." He was as startled as a dowager with an ice cube suddenly appearing in her girdle.
This unladylike fight was taking place in the kitchen. The flagstone kitchen was a cavernous room with a six burner gas range, double oven, triple bowl sink, two refrigerators, wine chiller, self-contained abattoir, attached herb garden, adjacent pantry and a walk-in freezer. The freezer was pertinent to the story because the door to that imposing facility was currently standing open so that Imelda, the multi-footed centipede girl, could get to the spiced pumpkin, non-fat, probiotic, sugar-free, frozen yogurt on the back shelf. She wanted to have a little snack while watching the fight.
By the time Didymus walked between the antagonists, the pushing and shoving had commenced. Angelica took a couple of steps back to gain momentum for the attack she was preparing to launch against the skinny goblin girl. Didymus stepped into the middle of the fray and was immediately doused with a pitcher of ice water wielded by Emily and then Angelica slammed into him. His participation in the fight lasted about three seconds. The sopping wet Didymus was propelled past Imelda into the freezer. He landed on the seat of his soaking wet gabardine trousers in the receiving tray of the gigantic, commercial grade ice dispenser… and stuck.
The battling ladies didn't even notice his predicament and continued their fight. They had the determined frenzy of an ant that had found a sugar cube laced with methamphetamines.
The Old Man and the sentient Hat finally appeared about then, drawn by the racket.
"What's going on here?" gruffed the Old Man. He hurriedly shuffled into the kitchen. The Hat's bird head was stretched up high to see the action. When the Hat's skull encountered the pans dangling from the elaborately scrolled pot holder, it let out a yowl.
"OWWW!" screeched the bird head and then its attention was caught by the shiny magnificence of the obviously expensive copper cook wear.
"COPPER!" the astonished Hat yelled with surprise and delight. It had never been in the kitchen and was not aware of the fine quality of the appurtenances therein.
All activity ceased for a split second as the word soaked into the crowded kitchen.
"IT'S THE COPS!" screamed Imelda. "Scram!"
The kitchen cleared in about five seconds. The boyfriends in the parlor were caught up in the stampede and the entire assembly charged out to the parking lot. They ran as if their tails were on fire and some skinny guy wearing makeup was putting them out with gasoline. Seven fender benders and a cloud of dust later, the parking lot was empty.
They need not have bothered. Didymus had never thought to mention his charitable donations to the policeman's fund, or the mayor's fund, or the city council's charitable concern. He was a kind and generous, civic minded soul who had no idea that he had paid enough protection money to see that the Chicken House would not suffer a raid for at least a hundred years. The One-Eyed Pimp was indeed the finest pimp ever to be seen in the Underground.
"My ladies?" called the confused and icebound Didymus from the open doorway of the freezer. "My ladies?"
I apologize for the Olestra joke. It was both disgusting and anachronistic.