Ninja Chickens"We have no choice. We have to go out there and just do it," said Emma. The other hens nodded in agreement. "We just can't allow this to go on anymore. Something has to be done." Emma saw how her words were filling her listeners with courage and inspiration--as well as desperation. The situation with the raccoons was just too much. Just yesterday, they had been at the neighbors house down the street and had gotten into the coop, and killed and eaten three birds.
"We must avenge our unfortunate sisters," said Lizzie resolutely. The other chickens all bowed their heads. "As members of United Chicken Warriors, we cannot allow this carnage to continue whilst we roost in comfort and security (thanks to Briana's careful construction of our coop)." The other hens all put their right wing tips together in a circle to recite the U.C.W. Pledge.
"On my honor, I do solemnly swear to protect the innocent and weak, to help all other birds preserve their lives, honor and tail feathers, and to support all members of United Chicken Warriors with my time, effort, and if necessary, my very life. Cluuuck!"
All the birds bustled around the coop, collecting their uniforms and weapons--curved scimitars, wickedly pointed throwing stars, and miniature daggers with carefully polished blades. Chicken spit is a wonderful metal-shiner.
Emma was a Black Sex-Link. She had an attitude. One of the "boss" chickens, feisty and cocky, nobody got in her way. She was not as beautiful as Lucy or Mary, but she was Briana's favorite chicken. Her sleek red-brown plumage was carefully dusted and preened, and her pointed little tail was held at a saucy angle. And she layed light brown eggs.
Mary was a picture-perfect Ameraucana, with blue feet, a green tail, and a little pink comb. A South-American model with flawless form, she popped out army-green eggs with freckles, which her owner Adam gobbled with joy. A true beauty queen, Mary liked to strut. But unfortunately, there were no roosters on Mercer Island. Their habit of serenading their harems at somewhat ungodly hours did not go over so well sometimes. Mary sighed for romance, but was afraid she would have to be a spinster.
Jacinta was a tiny, dainty, shy little Lakenvelder. Buttery golden plumage and a black tail distinguished her from the other chickens. She clucked with a distinct Dutch accent. And she was the only one who layed good-old white eggs. Tiny ones. She belonged to Briana's sister Charlotte.
Lizzie was another Ameraucana. Pointed blue eggs with rounded bottoms were her specialty. Her fluffed-out cheeks gave her the appearance of a cute clown, but she was not a chicken...um, well, you know what I mean. Liam was her friend and guardian.
Lucy was the fluffiest, fanciest hen in the chicken tractor. Sporting the title "Silver-Laced Wyandotte," each of her white feathers was neatly edged in iridescent black. She was another "boss" chicken. A big sister to everybody, she gave them lots of advice whether they wanted it or not. Her eggs were a remarkable shade of pinkish-copper, with rock-hard shells. She also belonged to Briana.
"Alright, everybody, are we ready to go?" Lucy inquired. "Come come, ladies, we don't have all night, so let's get the show on the road." All the hens lined up with weapons in wings, ninja headbands tied, belted, armed and thoroughly ready for action. They all gave each other pats on the back and made weak jokes about raccoons and their lust for poultry. They were just plain scared. But resolute as can be.
A moment later, the moonlight shone on five feathery forms racing Ninja-Chicken style (whatever that is) across the yard, sneaking under the fence, across the front lawn, and down the road to the Dornay's house. Settling down around the chicken coop, they awaited the return of the terrors of the chicken world--masked bandits with claws and teeth and paws that could undo simple latches. They were smart and persistent, often returning night after night until they found a way in. And these raccoons were pirates too, complete with bandannas, cutlasses, and various raccoon pirate paraphernalia.
Mary tapped on the side of the coop. "Hello, we are the Farrell chickens, members of U.C.W. We are here to protect you," she announced. Sleepy (but excited) chicken noises were heard from inside.
"Thank goodness! None of us are members, and we can't fight. We have neither the training nor the weapons. We are helpless against the forces of evil," moaned a hen from within.
"Don't worry, we'll handle everything. We are trained professionals," Lizzie reassured them. She sounded a little worried in spite of herself.
"Hush!" whispered Emma, suddenly and urgently. All the fowl tensed and drew closer into the shadows of the coop. Two stealthy shapes were seen moving across the lawn. Each Ninja Chicken readied herself and tried to still her trembling.
The shadowy forms moved into the moonlight. Their masked faces became visible, and their yellow eyes gleamed. One had a hook in place of a paw.
"This is it," said Mary to Emma. She unsheathed her dagger and held it up to the moonlight. "I am a Ninja Chicken, true to the end," she vowed. Emma and Lucy and Lizzie and Jacinta did likewise. The warriors lined up one abreast, and advanced.
That is, they flapped like crazy, shrieking violent Ninja Chicken cries. It was awesome. Especially with the daggers.
The raccoons were rather flabbergasted. Ninja Chickens, really? Trying to beat them, the Fearsome Raccoon-Pirates? They drew their cutlasses and dashed across the yard.
The two forces collided with a terrific clanging of metal. All the frightened chickens in the coop could see was a little whirlwind of feathers and gray stripy fur.
The Ninja Chickens were having a rough go. The raccoons were not chickens...um, well, once again I will assume you know what I mean. The Ninja Chickens' only hope was to stay out of the reach of those flailing claws and that hook. And the teeth. So they tried. And at the same time, trying to hurl throwing star and slash with dagger and scimitar. A few slashes went home, cutting one pirate's nose and another grazing the other's shoulder, but on the whole neither side had much success. It was time to try something new.
"Retreat!" shrieked Lucy wildly, as a stray raccoon claw caught a tail feather. It came out in his hand as Lucy flapped up and away, to the top of the plum tree. The other warriors followed.
"Okay, we need a new plan--this isn't working. We need a team effort. Emma, you and Jacinta and Mary take one, and Lizzie and I will tackle the other. Spare no effort. Remember you are Ninja Chickens, you fear dishonor more than death. To surrender is to disgrace yourself forever!" The warrior chickens sat for a moment and caught their breath. Then they swooped up into the air and descended as two formidable teams. Each bird had her dagger extended in front of her, held closely to the other daggers of the chickens on her team to make one wicked point.
The raccoons looked up in amazement as the pair of pointy poultry bombs descended. The Warrior Chickens did not falter. Straight into their targets' chests they plunged their daggers. The two Raccoon-Pirates gave their last deathly gurgles before they flopped over and shuddered in death. Their blood flowed warm and red over their gray fur and onto the grass. They were toast.
But not without a price. As Emma stood up and wiped her dagger clean on the grass, she saw what the price had been. Lizzie's right wing was bleeding badly, and Lucy had was severely wounded on both her wattles. The raccoon's jaws had grazed her head as she honed in on her target. Mary had passed out from all the excitement. But on the whole, everything was okay. The raccoons had clearly gotten the worst of it.
"Well, I guess that was a success!" clucked Jacinta relievedly, through her accent. Emma and Lizzie set about reviving Mary. As the Ninja Chickens stood up and began walking home in the moonlight, the sounds of exuberant chicken cheers were heard coming from the coop. The Warriors stood for a moment savoring their well-earned praise.
"It was indeed a pleasure," said Lucy graciously as the cooped chickens thanked them tearfully.
A few minutes later, as they hopped back onto their roosts after tending to the wounded, Mary said, "Now that was fun." The other hens nodded sleepily in agreement.
"But I wouldn't want to do that every night," said Jacinta.
"Well, you'll likely have a few weeks of uninterrupted slumber and then we'll hear about some dog or stupid kid tormenting somebody's chickens, and go save the day. I love our job," said Emma. All the hens clucked gently as they began to sleep, dreaming of heroic deeds well fought.
Emma tucked her feet up under her soft belly feathers. "Till our next exciting adventure," she whispered.
Thus it was that the Ninja Chickens vanquished the enemy that night. But there was always more work to be done; more chickens wailing in fear of the raccoons and dogs; more troubled chicks whose owners had forgotten to feed them; poultry everywhere of all ages and kinds needing help and defense against the powers of evil. The Ninja Chickens fought long and hard for all the rest of chicken-kind, and are barnyard-renowned for their spectacular feats of heroism. Cluuuck!
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