In the land of wax chickens only the unmeltable survive. And Clive the chicken was not unmeltable.
He woke up and opened the French doors in his bedroom and walked onto the balcony. He took a deep breath of air into his chicken lungs and then called for his servant. A young chicken with Twinkies for curlers in her hair arrived.
“Yes, master what may I do you for?” she requested.
Clive began pecking at the Twinkies in her hair and said, “That is all. Be gone now Chickenhead.”
She became gone but not without arriving somewhere else. In front of a mirror. Staring at herself and the picked apart Twinkies in her hair. She shed a feather thinking of how sad her life had become. She hit the mirror with her wing and flew off in anger. That night she sat in her nest playing her guitar and hating her master.
The next morning Clive yelled for her, “Oh servant! It seems one of my eggs cracked on the kitchen floor. Would you mind wiping that up with your tail feather for me?”
She may have cleaned it up but she wasn’t smiling…on the inside.
That night Clive was in an important meeting in his office. She knew never to disturb him during a meeting but this was important. She pecked the lock and said to everyone in the meeting, “Let’s flock!”
She pulled out her guitar and started blasting chicken metal. The walls began shaking and one chicken’s toupee fell off his head. The metal was beginning to be too much and Clive’s face was starting to melt.
He said, “I picked a bad day to be a wax chicken. Garble. Garble. Garble.”
The sexy young servant had succeeded in melting her master’s face off with chicken metal. She flew off into the night on her metal guitar seeking to end injustice to all chickens.