“You’re closer!”
“Here, chicky-chicky! Does Clucker want some fruit?”
It stops and tilts its head at her.
She tosses a piece of mango near it.
It fluffs its wings and looks back at me.
I’ve never seen a chicken with murder in its eyes before, but I think this one is contemplating my demise.
I’m frozen in place.
Having a standoff with a chicken.
“Is that a real chicken?” I whisper to Emma as quietly as I can.
“What else would it be?”
“A robot chicken sent to spy on us.”
She cracks up.
“I’m serious,” I whisper. “I got a script once about a post-apocalyptic world where all of the animals were actually robots spying on the humans for the robot overlord.”
“That doesn’t sound like a Razzle Dazzle film.”
“I didn’t say Iaskedfor the script. I said Igotit. Someone mailed it to me and my assistant was so amused he passed it on to me.”
The chicken makes a low, threateningbaaaagoooooock.
Emma tosses another piece of fruit at it, and this one hits it in the head.
She gasps.
Ierp.
The chicken scratches its foot on the ground, and then it charges me again.
“No, chicky!” Emma shrieks. “Here!Here! Have the whole picnic! We left you fish soup!”
I’m dancing.
I’m dancing and dodging a chicken that’s charging me with wings flapping.
It’ssnorting.
The chicken.
The chicken is snorting and charging and flapping and it wants to kill me.
Emma’s offering it fish soup and throwing pineapple chunks at it, but it’s not helping.
And it doesn’t matter how I dodge and change direction or run straight, it’skeeping up with me.
This mutant chicken is going to murder me.
Or at least my calves.
