The Chickens Have Landed - Part Three

The Chickens Have Landed - Part One
The Chickens Have Landed - Part Two


“And then there was that other friend, wasn’t there,” says Atyllah, egging me on.
“Yes,” I say. “I only sent him an email requesting that he issue D with a letter of invitation about five weeks ago.”
“Whatcha need a letter of invitation for if he’s a friend?” asks Granny looking puzzled.
She’s never quite got the hang of human bureaucracy. Mind you, I can’t say I have either.
“D needs a visa. Because we’re staying with a friend, the friend has to issue a written invitation so the authorities know we’re not refugees or state freeloaders.”
Granny considers this for a moment. “Nope, still don’t get it.”
“Don’t worry about it Granny, most don’t, it’s human stuff,” remarks Atyllah.
“Ah,” says Granny, “well that’s all right then. Their stuff has never made sense. I still can’t get my head around all this division humans are so incredibly intent upon.”
“No, me neither.”
“Frankly, they’re a disgrace to the oneness of the multiverse,” mutters Granny as her eyes redden.
“That’s what Aunt Aggie always used to say,” replies Atyllah.

Great Aunt Aggie, Philosopher Chicken, now with the Andromedans manifesting multiversal peace

“Shall I carry on?” I ask. “If you’re sure you’re quite finished.”
“Of course, of course, you carry on, dear,” says Granny pouncing on an unfortunate bug that had been minding its own business on the daisy bush.
“Well,” I say, “after four weeks no invitation was forthcoming and we were running out of time to apply for the visa. I emailed him again – and again – and again… Eventually he said it was too complicated… I mean I ask you, what is it with men?”
“Human men,” corrects Atyllah.
“Yes, well, them too,” I mutter.
“I can’t stand the suspense,” squawks Granny, “did you get the vista or not?”
“The visa,” I say, “I don’t know. We did finally get the invitation, after a considerable amount of stress. Whether we get the visa on time remains to be seen. We may yet be staying home and missing our holiday. You know, I really-really-really don’t need stress like this – not after everything went tits up with the other friend. Did I mention how much extra that has cost us? Did I?”
“Um, well I did spot the figure in your brain. You haven’t thought of, you know, doing that thing the Americans so love to do – what’s it called now…? Sewing her.”
“Ooh,” crows Granny, “you mean like stitching her up - like that Frankestein fellow.”
“No,” I say, rolling my eyes, “I think she means mean suing.”
“Yes! That’s it! You haven’t though of suing her, have you?” asks Atyllah. “I gather she is extraordinarily wealthy…”
“No, but I did withdraw all offers of friendship. I’ve decided that loyalty is vastly overrated.”
“Oh I could have told you that if you’d but asked. It’s really not a quality suited to the current state of human evolution,” says Atyllah. “And besides, there is nothing quite so callous as the super rich. We see it all the time with the Arcturean nobility. Think they’re gods – or something.”
“More like something – from the depths of the henpost heap,” mutters Granny and then pats my knee with a knobbly claw. “Don’t worry, darling, you can always come back to Novapulse with us for a nice little break. We love to have you…”
“Thank you, Granny,” I say weakly. Somehow, and with full respect (I’d be mad to have anything less) the idea of three weeks living amongst chickens who are human sized just doesn’t appeal.
“And then, what was the other thing?” asks Atyllah.
“I don’t know why you keep asking me when you already know.”
“Ah yes, the other was the administrative bit of financial bungling caused by bank officials which may well cost you a few thousand pua shells.”
I grunt and notice that my heart rate is doing a jitterbug jive without the benefit of a tune. I can feel the steam building up in my ears and my foot starts to tap the floor in an uncontrollable way.
“Well, I think we arrived just in time!” announces Granny. “I can see my little cupcake here has been well and truly upset and that Does Not Please Me.”
She quivers and a strange sound starts to build up. It seems to begin near her knees. It travels upwards and issues from her beak as cacophony best described as a howling screech.
OMG! Granny is going Were! And it’s not yet full moon.
Oh dear. It truly doesn’t do to anger the old bird anywhere around full lunar manifestation.
I watch in alarm has her talons start to extend. Her eyes develop a maniacal gleam, her beak sharpens to a razor-sharp point and thick clumps of fur start to sprout between her toes.
“Let me at the bastards,” she screeches.
“BAHOWOOOOOKAAAAAOOOOOOWWWWL!”
I stuff my fingers in my ears and grin quietly behind my scarf. Frankly, I am delighted the chickens are here.
“See, I knew you would be,” says Atyllah smugly.

Granny Were starts to go were...

In Honour of the Silly Season and Courtesy of Atyllah the Hen…

And just when you thought it was safe to go back into the world… the silly season descends. And not just that…

There I was trying to make my way through the ravening hordes at the mall – having fought my way through at least five traffic jams – when there was a tap on my shoulder. I recognized that tap and so tried to ignore it.
“You know what happens next, don’t you?” hissed an all too familiar voice.
I shoved my fingers in my ears. But not in time.
“BA-KAAAAAAAK!”
Oh bother, what can I say, she came back.
For those of you who haven’t been journeying with me for that long you may not be aware of Atyllah the Hen, Chicken with Attitude. Now I would tell you that Atyllah is a fictional character who used to have her own blog. Atyllah, however, will tell you that if you think she’s fiction then your life is one big fantasy. She’s that kind of Chicken. Moreover, she’s an alien chicken from a distant galaxy and a planet called Novapulse. Nova Pullis – New Chicken – geddit? Well, I try not to because it really just becomes far too much.
“What are you doing here,” I hissed, steering her to an alcove. One doesn’t, after all, really want to be explaining oneself to the authorities when they ask what you’re doing with a five foot four chicken – and one who is likely to give them a good pecking if they “get smart” – her words, not mine. “And where’s your human suit?” I muttered, “Couldn’t you at least have made some effort to blend in?”
“Ha! Blend in, with you lot, why by the great Corncob and all that is unholy would I want to do that? Eh? Anyway, I’m perfectly blended, in it’s your silly season time, people will just think I’m part of the festive appeal.”
“Yes, but you’re not appealing.”
“Oh really? You’re joking, come on, tell me you’re joking.”
“Yes, all right, I’m joking.” Anything for a quiet life. I’m an eternal optimist.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Checking up on you.”
“And? How’m I doing?”
“Well, Aunt Aggie would be proud of you but Granny Were thinks you’ve gone a bit sappy and that there's been far too much seriousness on your blog of late.”
“Yes, well, she would. She is, after all, a WereChicken. But I don’t see how Aunt Aggie can be proud of me, she died.”
“Oh, I know, from an excess of human toxicity..." Atyllah glared at me in a meaningful way. "But happily for us she reincarnated. She decided she was missing us too much.”
“It’s as easy as that?”
“When you are as evolved a being as Aunt Aggie you can do pretty much as you want. Anyway, listen, I can’t hang about chatting, the spacepod is parked up on the roof – I wasn’t going to risk teleporting here with all the air traffic flying in at this time of year – Corncob, this place is overrun with tourists!”
“And you’re not a tourist – an intergalactic one?” I said raising an eyebrow.
I received a scathing look for my pains.
“As I was trying to say, since we were aware that this was your festive, urgh, season, we thought we’d jolly together for old time’s sake and provide you with some good cheer. Of course, you know my view on these things, “bah, humbug”, but, oh well, anything to humour a reincarnated great-aunt. Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”
I was dragged and bustled through the shoppers and wailing children - and past a man who clearly wasn’t Santa - and up to the roof of the mall, where a very strange sight awaited me. The Hens had all descended and were putting on a show!
You can decide for yourself just how pretty it was – and I’m sorry to say, I got dragged in too.
Oh well, ‘tis the season to be jolly, tra-la-la-laa and bah very humbug.

Atyllah's impersonation of Scrooge may be viewed here

(Pictured from left to right - Aunt Aggie, Granny Were, Atyllah and yes, well, I got dragged in too.)

The full-on Hen impersonation of jolly little elves may be viewed here.

Of course, you can join in the mayhem and silliness by going to Elf Yourself.com or Scrooge Yourself.com. Ho ho ho...