IT STARTED OUT as a normal day in the world-renowned rubber chicken company with the acclaimed title of King Chicken. It wouldn’t be long, though, before things would go horribly awry.
Bill Overalls was working hard at his day job in the factory, doing his same old small job of inspecting the chickens coming out of the machine. He sometimes thinks to himself about how his job is comical, and not sad, even though it is pretty sad. Earlier that day, a rubber chicken with a lead belly button came out of the machine! While he worked away, there was a little tidbit. The machine crashed. He decided to visit his crotchety boss to ask what was wrong. As he advanced over to his manager’s office, he started to get an uneasy feeling, like something wasn’t right. He blamed it on the night shift (yes, they make the poor workers labor away at night, as if that isn’t bad enough, they make them wear diapers so they don’t have to leave the station!), but that didn’t stop him from walking faster. When he finally reached the awful man’s office, he flung the door open, but sitting there, in his office chair, was his boss, WITH A RUBBER CHICKEN SHOVED DOWN HIS THROAT!!!!!!
THE NEXT EVENING IN THE FACTORY…
Detective Shmerlock Golmes was there at the site right away, investigating his main three suspects. He was interrogating Bill Overalls, one of the man’s employees who was the main and only witness, Deborah Underwood, Mr. Andrews (the owner of the factory’s) wife, and Ivan Oliver, his ex-business partner whose reputation was destroyed because of him. “First of all, why have I been told that your boss is named King Chicken?” He addressed to Bill. “It’s a nickname he tells everyone to use. He likes to think of himself as King of the Manufactured Rubber Chickens, if that sounds remotely like a good thing. Bill replied. “And his name is… Mr. Andrews, yes?” Before anyone could respond, the impatient and antsy detective continued. “Ok, moving along, let’s start with YOU,” he said as he pointed at Deborah. “I heard you recently lost a court battle with this Mr. Andrews for the custody of your children after you two divorced. Tell me… why did you divorce with him?” Deborah was glad to answer to this, after everything that she has seen that day was about him and not one thing about her. “I’m sure most of you here can relate the reason why- because he is a selfish, controlling jerk.” She looked at both Bill and Ivan, for backup, and they both nodded in agreement. The Detective added, “And I’m guessing the only reason he won the court battle was because he was the main breadwinner of the family?” Deborah solemnly nodded. “So, this jerky man comes in and ruins everything, and when you finally escape that black hole, he took away everything. Your children, your house, most of your money, etc. So you did a little revenge. You shoved the metaphoric chicken he shoved down your throat down his.” The detective looked at the shaken woman, expecting her to add on, but when she didn’t, he moved along. “And the evidence I have for…” The man was interrupted by a sudden darkness, and then a loud a violent rush of movement occurred, followed by a scream so high-pitched that it went at frequencies that could break a window, and then another scream followed, this one being more masculine. Panic rushed through everyone’s head, and before they could do anything about it, the lights flickered, then ultimately came back on to thee shocking fate of Deborah and Ivan BECAUSE THEY HAD CHICKENS SHOVED DOWN THEIR THROATS!!! “I think we have a breakthrough,” said the detective.
“It was you all along,” the detective said. Bill tried to wash away this false claim by saying, “But it wasn’t m-” “Hold on there,” the detective rudely interrupted. “I don’t bargain with murderers.” “But why did you kill those two right then when you knew it would lead me in to thinking it was you? It would have been a great scheme if you weren’t a suspect, but you are! The main one, in fact!” All the words coming out of the detective’s head sounded like he was being lectured by one of the adults in Charlie Brown right then, because Bill Overalls was investigating something far more strange- there appeared to be a figure growing forming behind Shmerlock Golmes. “Excuse me,” Bill politely said, but sighed when the ignorant detective replied, “I don’t talk to murderers.” The figure was leaning in closer, somewhat mockingly. Bill couldn’t hold this from him any more. “THERE’S SOMEONE BEHIND YOU!!!!” When the detective finally looked behind, he was bombarded by a mysterious cloaked figure with a rubber chicken in one hand, and death in another. Bill didn’t stay to see the rest.
He sped out of the door, running through the twisty and confused walls and corridors of the factory. Fearful and horrified of what was behind him, he didn’t turn around once to see the death before him. Once he finally reached the staircase, he escalated the steps faster than you could say the word ‘constipation.’ Or that sentence. Or the word ‘sentence. Or my sentence exclaiming that saying sentence could match the speed. Oh right, the story. It’s never about me now, isn’t it? A twisty staircase was so inconvenient at the moment, for Bill kept tripping on the uneven steps of the rickety factory. He was getting to lag behind so much that he could hear the footsteps of the masked murderer following him from behind. ‘Finally,” thought Bill. ‘The emergency exit.’ He grasped the handle of the door, triumphantly turning it, and once he did, he started to push. And push. And push some more. But his pushes seemed to mean nothing, the door would not budge. Breaking in to a panic, he realized the most anticlimactic thing you’d ever hear in any story ever. Ready for it? That door was notorious for being the one door in the factory that would budge!
THE LAST SIGHT HE EVER SAW IN HIS LIFE WAS THE CHICKEN THAT WOULD BE SHOVED DOWN HIS ESOPHAGUS!