Illustrations by Alison Berry
Guest art by Ramon Sierra (Cocor)
Episode 9: Chicken Attack!
The sky was still grey when Hana awoke the following morning. She had dreamt of monsters, giant lobsters, talking cats and her good, pink-skinned friend Pitaya, and felt guilty for having her subconscious lump Pitaya in with such absurdities. And the more she woke up, the more upset she was with reality for allowing such absurdities to exist in the first place. If only it had all been merely a dream, like so many other strange goings. It actually reminded Hana of an old children’s song about rowing a boat and life being nothing but a dream. Only if that was the case, then what would waking up be?
Such questions proved to be too big for her so early in the morning, so Hana thought of toast and orange juice instead. The rich smell of it all wafting in from the kitchen was probably what had originally woken her up. She looked at the grandfather clock in the living room to prove it: the time showed that it was at least half an hour before she usually woke, making it the devilish time of six in the morning. Wait, why was she in the living room? At least that question was not too big for her: she could remember staying up watching yet another monster movie with her family. Apparently she had grown too large for her father to carry her upstairs to her room like he used to.
Hana pulled her blanket off and followed the delicious smells to the kitchen table, where her mother and father were sharing breakfast before her father went to work. She greeted her parents with a sleepy ‘good morning’ and then sat herself down. Looking at all of the bacon and eggs and toast, she could not help but feel as if she was being rewarded for waking up early. She reached out for one of the pieces of toast set out on a small plate in the middle of the table but her mother batted her hand away.
‘That’s for your father, Hana,’ her mother told her. ‘He needs all the energy for work. You’ll get your breakfast after.’
‘But my tummy,’ Hana moaned. ‘It’s all rumbly.’
‘Don’t act like a baby, Hana,’ her mother said.
Hana folded her arms and glared at the toast. It seemed to be glaring back at her. ‘Okay, fine, I’ll go for a walk,’ she said in defeat, though she said it more to the toast than to her mother. Her father grabbed the toast and ate it as she left the room.
A walk really did feel like a good idea to her despite the grumpy grey sky peering in through the living room window. She knew that if it started raining then she could quickly run back inside. Actually, after last night, she did not wish to run the risk of walking around with only the slight protection of her pyjamas. She decided to take an umbrella with her just in case.
Hana slipped into her shoes, grabbed a black umbrella and stepped out into the early morning air. It was more soggy than refreshing, making her think of cereal that had been sitting in milk for too long; but since even the thought of soggy cereal was appetising to her at that moment she shook it out of her head. She went along with her idea of walking despite the uninviting climate, even if it meant she would only be able to walk to the sidewalk and back – as long as it took her mind off breakfast for a little while then it would be worth it.
But Hana winced as she walked. She was not pleased by the wet squishing of her shoes as she walked along the driveway, yet somehow she managed to bear through it: at least the gross feeling spreading between her toes had nothing to do with food.
By the time she reached the sidewalk she noticed something particularly odd about the air: there was a stench to it that reminded her of a certain rainy night populated by a dandruff umbrella and giant flying chicken. Her nostrils were so offended by the smell that they tried to close of their own accord, and she scrunched up her face until it became a hideous Halloween mask. Yes, by now she knew the pungent odour quite well: it was that of wet feathers.
Hana would have gasped were she not so worried about inhaling the tainted air. There was no doubt in her mind that the giant chicken was somewhere nearby, possibly hiding behind a cloud. The further it was, the better, she thought.
Since the smell of the giant chicken was even worse than rain and seemed to be getting stronger, Hana decided to head back inside early. The problem with that was that the giant chicken was sitting on her lawn when she turned around, blocking not only the entrance to her house but the entire view of her house as well. She let her umbrella fall clattering to the sidewalk, which allowed a few stray raindrops to dance unnoticed on top of her head. It could have been pouring for all Hana knew – the only thing that mattered at that moment, the one thing flooding every sense of her body, was the giant chicken staring at her.
She tried taking a precautionary step to the side, in case she was simply in the chicken’s way, but the chicken’s head tilted when she moved, its comb and wattle wobbling uncontrollably.
‘Um, hello,’ she said to it meekly. ‘Do you speak . . . English?’
The chicken squawked in response and Hana gritted her teeth. The very ground seemed to shake and she nearly lost her balance. She decided to try another tactic.
‘Hey, don’t do that!’ she called up to the chicken. ‘It’s only six in the morning! Do you know how many people are trying to sleep right now?’
The chicken looked down at her with its gigantic black eyes. She gulped.
‘I . . . I mean, you can’t just come here and . . . and sit on my lawn,’ she pleaded. ‘You need to have a reason to do these things. Do you have a reason?’
This time the chicken did something resembling intelligent thought: it nodded. Hana was relieved, since it meant she would have an easier time trying to get the chicken as far away from her home and family as possible.
‘How about you tell me the reason over at the park?’ she asked, and as she did so she walked around the chicken’s wide circumference. ‘That way we can have a bit more privacy, and I won’t have to deal with my dad having a heart attack when he opens the door to go to work. Okay? I’ll meet you at the park after I eat my breakfast. How’s that sound?’ By this time she had fully made her way around the chicken and was attempting to push it off her lawn; she nearly lost herself amongst all the feathers and was trying hard not to choke on the smell. ‘Come on, Mr. Chicken,’ she called to it. ‘I need you to go now!’
The chicken did stand up as if to leave, but as it did so it clutched onto Hana with a swift claw, moving much faster than she would have expected given its enormous size. She had to struggle hard to stop herself from yelling for help: if her parents saw what was happening then her breakfast would have been forgotten about for sure. The chicken began flapping its massive wings until it took flight, and then it soared through the sky until it reached a deserted park that Hana had never been to before.
When the chicken landed it let go of Hana, and she walked around dizzily for a few moments before collapsing to the ground; the great heights that the chicken had taken her to proved to have been too much for her body and mind to handle, especially so early in the morning when she was devoid of her precious breakfast. While she lay on the ground the chicken nudged her with one of its talons and she made an ineffectual attempt at slapping it away. The chicken then squawked at her.
‘I’m alive, if that’s what you’re checking for,’ she told it. And then, under her breath: ‘You stupid chicken.’
The chicken glared at her. Hana used one of its talons to help pull herself up.
‘If I wasn’t so hungry then I’d be beating you up right now!’ she shouted, and then, because she was so hungry, she turned around and began running in the vague direction of her house. She figured that if she kept up a decent pace then she would arrive home before her food got cold.
The chicken, of course, had other plans, and it leapt over Hana in a single bound, landing a few feet in front of her and cutting off her escape route.
‘All right, that does it,’ Hana said. ‘If you want to battle then we’re gonna battle. Just know that I don’t fight dirty, you giant drumstick – I fight gross.’
And with that she pulled a giant dandruff egg out of her hair and set it down beside her. She then jutted her chin out to the chicken defiantly, turned to the egg and wound up her arm as if preparing to punch it. Her plan was to hope that the chicken was stupid enough to believe that the dandruff egg was one of its own.
Apparently it did, because it pecked furiously at Hana, who managed to avoid the pecks with balletic precision and dove to safety behind a swing set. She clutched onto one of the seats and held it before her as a protective shield, but the chicken seemed to be no longer interested in her. Instead it was looking over the dandruff egg, possibly inspecting it for cracks.
Hana knew that she needed to use this time to think up a different plan. Since the chicken was so large, it would be impossible for her to come up with a dandruff weapon that looked threatening enough to it, so she would have to keep on the track of distraction if she wished to escape the fowl monster.
She looked around the park for inspiration, but it was pretty bare outside of a small playground and the swing set. It did not even have a baseball diamond, which she supposed was why she had never been to it before.
She remained frozen at the swing set, her mind going blank, and then just as things were looking completely hopeless the duality of the swings gave her an idea. What if she fashioned a decoy out of her head and used it to escape?
As quickly as possible she began working on an undefined dandruffman, an entire person made out of dandruff based loosely on her appearance. It was the creepiest thing she had ever done and she had to look away as she made it, accidentally giving it three arms instead of two and stubby little legs. When she looked at what she had done she wanted to smash it right away, but she was sure the chicken would do that for her. She sent her dandruff double out towards the chicken, which had finally seen through the egg’s flaky façade and was pecking it apart.
Hana did not bother waiting to see what happened next – she ran as far away from the park as possible, using her rumbling stomach’s homing ability to track down breakfast and thus her home.
Breakfast was absolutely delicious. Her mother did not normally put so much effort into cooking but was apparently in a good mood that morning, and Hana kissed the chef on the cheek before gobbling up the small farm that had been presented before her. Every morsel of every bite served her stomach well, and she patted it contentedly as she gazed up at the ceiling; now that she was full she could finally let her mind drift towards matters that did not concern food.
And that was when it fully hit her: she had nearly been killed by a giant chicken. She started and almost fell out of her chair. Her sister, still eating, looked at Hana with great curiosity, but was too busy chewing to ask what was wrong.
Hana imagined what her corpse would have looked like and saw a starved young girl with a giant clawprint on her chest; her tombstone was made entirely out of dandruff and had a recipe for French toast as its epitaph. Those in attendance were a collection of monsters and misfits. Horrified by the thought, Hana decided to head out early in the hopes of catching Henri on his way to school, to tell him about what had happened and formulate a plan to prevent it from happening again.
Her sister was only just beginning to finish her meal so she remained behind, much to Hana’s relief. That meant she would be able to openly talk about the situation with Henri. Well, she would be able to talk about everything except for the small detail of the dandruff umbrella – that type of information was reserved for James only. All these tiers of confidentiality sometimes made her feel as though she were constructing her own invitation-only reality, where she was at the top of a metaphysical ladder and would only let other people climb so far. But was she really at the top? Perhaps those such as the way king, the river monster and the giant chicken begged to differ.
Henri was heading out to school early, as she suspected. He was visibly surprised to see her out so early as well – if his eyebrows rose any higher then he would have been wearing them as a hat.
‘So I take it you’re excited to see the finished product,’ he said after they greeted one another.
‘Pardon?’
‘Don’t play dumb – you’re excited to see the movie, right? I have it in my bag. James’ soundtrack synchs up almost perfectly.’
‘Oh, the movie! Yes, of course I’m excited about it. I forgot we’re showing it today.’
‘How could you forget?’
‘Well . . .’ She looked around carefully for any eavesdroppers – especially large feathery ones – and then whispered her recent encounters with the chicken. ‘So I might be a bit scared right now,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder in case anything was following them. Luckily there was nothing but the wind and a couple cars leaving their driveways for work. She had to assume that the chicken did not know how to drive.
‘So it just randomly attacked you?’ Henri asked. ‘You’re sure there was nothing that could’ve brought it on?’
Hana was about to answer ‘yes’ but then she remembered that she had first noticed the giant chicken when she was carrying the dandruff umbrella. ‘Um, well, I was walking home with an umbrella that I had accidentally covered in dandruff,’ she said, trying to be as truthful as possible.
‘That’s interesting,’ Henri said. ‘The river monster seemed to attack you because of your dandruff as well.’
‘Maybe it’s a coincidence,’ she offered.
‘I don’t know, Hana,’ Henri said. ‘River monsters and giant chickens don’t just turn up out of the blue. We might have to consider the possibility that it’s more than a mere coincidence.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. You know, when you talk like that it makes me glad that I sometimes get to copy your homework.’
‘You copy my homework?’
‘Uh, nothing.’
They continued their trek to school in deep thought, so deep that they did not even notice when a light rain started up. It took until their uniforms turned a darker shade of blue for them to realise that the weather had changed, and Henri popped open his umbrella for the both of them to take refuge under. Hana took deep whiffs as they walked in case the stench of wet feathers reappeared, but Henri thought it meant she was catching a cold, so he hurried them along to the dry warmth of the school.
They arrived earlier than either of them had ever been and found the school nearly empty with the exception of the teachers. Hana sneezed, but only because she was allergic to ghosts.
They had no clue what to do other than wait. Together they stood by the hallway doors with large windows overlooking the rain and listened quietly to the soothing sounds. There was also a faint smell of something but it was hard to tell what – perhaps it was lunch being prepared in the cafeteria, or one of the teachers did not shower properly that morning.
‘This is probably the only time I’ve wanted school to start earlier,’ Hana said, covering her nose.
‘Are you that bored?’ Henri asked. ‘It’ll start soon enough. We just have to wait a little longer.’
She nodded. Everything was absolutely peaceful. Or rather, everything was absolutely peaceful until the giant chicken plopped down from the sky and caused a huge splash in the middle of the school’s field. Hana grabbed Henri and pressed her finger against the glass, pointing at the chicken in case he was somehow unable to see it.
‘There it is!’ she cried. ‘It really must be following me.’
‘Wow, that’s strange,’ Henri said. ‘How can it fly with wet feathers?’
‘Apparently not very well,’ Hana answered. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘If we had a giant vat of plum sauce then we could drown it in that,’ Henri offered, but Hana gave him a nasty look so he opted to think more realistically. ‘Okay, so what are chickens afraid of?’
Hana shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but everyone calls Billy Meyers a chicken and he’s afraid of everything,’ she said.
‘I don’t think that helps,’ Henri said. Then he snapped his fingers. ‘How about trying to shake your dandruff all over it like you did with the river monster? Maybe we can have some nice crispy chicken for lunch.’
‘Uh, I already tried that,’ Hana said, thinking back to the dandruff egg and her dandruff double.
‘All right, so from the looks of things we’re doomed,’ sighed Henri. ‘If James was here then he could try chasing it away with his bat, but he’ll probably be late as always. I honestly don’t know what we can do, Hana. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ Hana said. ‘I think I have an idea.’
‘Really? What is it?’ Henri asked as thunder rumbled ominously.
‘Give me your house key and you’ll see,’ she said.
‘Oh, you’re going to try to trick the chicken into eating the key and hope that lightning strikes it dead?’ he asked. Hana puffed out her cheeks and looked at him through slit eyes. Henri reached out and deflated her.
‘For your information: yes,’ she answered. ‘Now, give me your key.’
‘Why does it have to be my key?’
‘I don’t know, because it tastes better,’ she said. ‘Come on, give it up.’
‘I’m getting it, Hana. It’s hard to access my pockets since they’re still a bit wet.’ He then produced the key and placed it in Hana’s open palm. ‘Let’s all settle down,’ he said.
‘It’s hard to be calm when there’s that . . . that . . . overgrown chicken wing sitting out there, giving us its cold, creepy stare!’ she said as she looked out at the giant chicken. It really was staring at them, and seemingly through its own slit eyes at that.
‘So how are you going to get the chicken to eat the key?’ Henri asked.
‘I haven’t been playing catch all my life for nothing,’ Hana said.
Henri was visibly surprised. ‘You’re going to throw it into its mouth?’
‘Listen, Henri: there comes a time in everyone’s life where they’re going to have to throw a key into a giant chicken’s mouth. For me, this is that time. Now excuse me while I save the world.’
Puffed up with confidence, Hana placed her hand on the bar to push open the door. Just as she did so, however, a face appeared in the window, so drenched with rain that it looked like the ghost of a drowning victim. Hana and Henri both screamed, but so did the ghost.
After about five seconds of screaming, which is actually a really long time to scream, Hana and Henri realised they were screaming at James, and vice versa. Hana threw open the door and they let him into the building, where he shivered and sneezed. A massive puddle formed beneath their feet.
‘What are you doing here so early?’ Hana asked James, who was biting the handle of his bat to keep his teeth from chattering.
‘Nnn! Nghh nnn,’ he said.
‘What? Did you just say that you came here early because you love school and doing lots of work?’
James spat out the bat. ‘No, I said I came here because of the chicken,’ he said, ever-ready to defend himself from accusations of studiousness.
‘What do you mean?’ Hana asked. ‘Did the chicken call you up on its cell phone and invite you over? You’re usually still asleep at this time.’
‘Well, there was this really awful smell that woke me up, and when I noticed it wasn’t me I looked out my window and saw a giant flying chicken heading towards the school. I called you up to let you know about it but your mom told me you had already left, so I figured you were off to confront it in an epic battle or something. Now I’m here, I have my bat, and I see you two are hiding while the chicken terrorises the field. This isn’t the epic battle I was expecting.’
Hana breathed in through her teeth. ‘For your information, James, I was just about to throw this key at the giant chicken before you showed up,’ she said haughtily, showing the key as proof.
‘What, were you planning on having the chicken swallow it somehow and hope it gets hit by lightning?’ James asked.
‘Yes,’ Hana said reservedly.
‘All right!’ James exclaimed. ‘Now that’s what I call a plan! You know, it might be a bit difficult to throw the key all the way into the chicken’s mouth, especially with all this rain, so how about you throw it at me and let me try to bat it in? I brought my trusty pal with me, as always.’ He brandished his aluminum baseball bat, nearly knocking Hana and Henri’s blocks off.
‘Careful, James,’ Henri said after ducking and dodging. ‘That kind of accident won’t make getting onto the baseball team any easier.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ James said, sliding the bat into an imaginary sheath. ‘Come on, Hana, let’s do this thing.’
‘Right!’ Hana said, steeling herself.
‘Good luck, guys,’ Henri said. ‘I’ll stay here and guard the movie.’
Hana and James nodded. As soon as they pushed open the door, lightning struck, and then thunder rumbled almost immediately afterwards.
‘Uh, is your bat a good idea right now?’ Hana asked, looking at its shiny metallic surface.
‘It’s the best idea we have,’ James said. ‘Come on.’
They let the door shut behind them, and Henri watched as their silhouettes went up against the monstrous chicken.
‘Okay, let’s do this before we catch something bad,’ Hana said. She went ahead of James so she would have room to throw the key. ‘You ready?’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ James said. He did not bother telling Hana that the chicken was now standing up, since that would probably only distract her. ‘Okay, go!’
Hana whipped the key as if it were a fastball towards James, who clanked it hard with his bat, sending the key up to the chicken’s beak. Its golden sheen made it look like a tasty grain to the chicken, which snapped it up and immediately swallowed. James gave Hana a thumbs-up and, grinning, she turned to see the giant chicken standing over her, ready for more food. She made a sound like a mouse being stepped on by an elephant and nearly spun-out on the wet grass as she bolted back to the school. Henri held the door open for both of them and slammed it shut once they were inside, on the floor and gasping for breath.
Then lightning struck again, and a thick, black smoke came into the building through the cracks in the doors.
‘Did . . . it . . . really . . . happen?’ James asked Henri, still catching his breath.
Henri looked out the window, then looked back to Hana and James and nodded.
‘I really, really wish it didn’t smell so good,’ Hana said. James and Henri could not help but agree.
A couple of teachers arrived on the scene once they noticed the smoke and pulled the fire alarm. The fire department cleaned up the remains of the chicken, satisfying the children who were afraid it would end up being the next item on the lunch menu.
With all of the poultry business out of the way, school went back to normal and the trio were able to show their short movie amongst the others in their class. Everyone was absolutely amazed by the puppetry used to bring Gorey to life. The trio received many accolades, including the highest marks in the class, but they wondered how much better it would have been if they had filmed the epic battle with the giant chicken instead.
‘I wouldn’t fret,’ Henri said to the others once class ended. ‘Stranger things are sure to happen. Anyway, I think our next adventure will consist of you two getting my key back. Okay? And . . . go.’
To Be Continued In Episode Ten: The Anger Cape
Episode 1
Episode 2
Episode 3
Episode 4
Episode 5
Episode 6
Episode 7
Episode 8
Episode 9
Episode 10
Episode 11
Episode 12
Episode 13
Episode 14
Episode 15
Volume 2
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