CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (read after txt) 📕

John MacDonald, is a dadgum Dark Lord in service of the Four-Legged Empire.”

“You’re not off on another one of your tangents again, are you?” Ace Bawchh gobbled as he trotted by. Despite being a young turkey, it seemed to Brooster that Ace was starting to feel his oats around the barnyard.

“When was the last time you saw your brother Tom?” Brooster added a harrumph for good measure. “Last November, wasn’t it? He went out back of the barn with the Dark Lord, and we ain’t seen hide nor feather of him since, have we?”

“Well…” Ace waved a wing dismissively as he continued on his way. “Tom was always losing his head over some hen. He probably trotted off to another barnyard while the farmer wasn’t looking.”

“I like that boy,” Brooster said as an aside to Durass as he watched the turkey trot away. “But he’s about as sharp as a ball of yarn.”

“Look, Brooster.” Durass took advantage of a rare break in the monologue. “Aside from Tom’s disappearance, I really don’t see why you think the farmer is a Dark Lord, much less in service to the four-legged animals here.”

“Oh, ya don’t, do ya? Haven’t you noticed that he collects all of the chicken, duck, and geese eggs every day? And the only time we see a new bird around these here parts is shortly after an old one ups and goes missing?”

“Well, now…”

“‘Well now’ nothing, son,” Brooster interrupted. “You don’t see any of those shenanigans going on with them four-legged critters, do ya, boy? Nope, not at all. And what exactly goes on inside that barn when he takes the cows, horses and sheep in there anyway? I tell ya it’s something downright unholy, that’s what.”

“Now, to be fair,” Durass quickly slipped in. “The sheep look a lot different when they come back out of the barn.”

“Precisely my point, son,” Brooster answered. “Downright unholy things go on around this barnyard and that there Dark Lord is behind all of it with them four-legged critters’ blessing.”

“What do you propose to do about it, Brooster,” Qin Gon Juin, the eldest goose of the flock, waddled up from behind. “Or have you forgotten about Ded Hartvar?”

“He always does,” agreed Aria Lagone, Brooster’s twin sister, strutting beside Qin.

“That mangy hound don’t bother me none,” Brooster scoffed. “The real problem is what are we gonna do about that Dark Lord? We need to form an alliance of all the fowls in this here barnyard and run off that evil empire right now!”

“Until you fare better against Hartvar,” Qin replied with a shrug as he waddled off with the others in tow, “we are going to do nothing at all. I suggest you do the same.”

“He’s a nice boy,” Brooster remarked as he watched his friends wander off. “But if he keeps his mouth open like that the local airport is gonna use it as an emergency landing strip.”

Brooster pecked around the yard for a bit, not bothering to hide his disappointment when none of the other fowls would listen to him. He made quick work of a plump, juicy worm that picked the wrong moment to poke its head up out of the ground. With a final scratch of disgust, Brooster started off in the direction of the water hole.

“They are quite correct, you know,” a booming voice called out. “Until you have defeated Ded Hartvar, they will never follow you. Your alliance will never form, and you will never defeat the Dark Lord nor his four-legged minions.”

“What in tarnation?” Brooster exclaimed as he spun about, looking in vain for the source of the voice. “Who said that? Who’s a talkin’ to me? I’m startin’ to get as batty as my Aunt Urbe, and that woman was so batty we called her a walkin’ belfry.”

“I’m up here, Brooster,” the voice called out. “Near the top corner of the fence.”

Brooster peered at the location, taking a cautious step forward. He spotted a spider’s web and at its center, a large black spider.

“That’s it, Brooster, right here.” The spider waved a single, thin leg while another stroked its tiny goatee. “My name is Naebi Obiwonk, and I overheard everything you said to your fellow fowls.”

“Well, stuff me with cornbread and serve me for dinner,” Brooster exclaimed. “So, what makes a tiny little critter like you so sure I can’t beat that Dark Lord and his empire all by myself?”

“Because he serves the dark side of the Great Web,” Naebi explained. “It promises great power to those who give into its temptations. But it is so evil that it destroys all that it touches, such as the Ded Hartvar himself. He was not always the terrible hound that you have come to know, Brooster. Once, he served the light side of the Great Web and was a great follower of the Araneae Order.

“Then he encountered the Dark Lord,” Naebi continued. “My greatest pupil slowly turned away from me, the Order, and the light side of the Great Web. Now, Brooster, you must face him if you ever hope to free the barnyard from the Dark Lord Old MacDonald’s grip.”

“The what order?” Brooster shook his head in confusion. “What kind of mumbo jumbo are you trying to slip past me here?”

“The Araneae Order,” Naebi repeated with a sigh. “We were once great guardians of the light side. We brought order and harmony everywhere we went. Then, just before you were hatched, a great darkness began to spread until it engulfed all that it encountered. Many of my brothers and sisters fell to it until, now, I alone remain as the last of our order.

“I can train you in the ways of the light side, Brooster,” the arachnid explained. “And when you are ready you will defeat Hartvar and the Dark Lord and set us all free.”

“I just don’t know, I tell ya, I just don’t know.”

Before Naebi could formulate a reply, the Dark Lord walked out of his house, down the six-step stairs that connected the porch to