Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Chapter 24

Transitionary

Thunderfunk the Superchicken sat in darkness, watching the massive screens set up in front of him. Various news stations flashed before him, along with business reports, and an episode of The Honeymooners, which was followed by I Love Lucy. That poor Ricky, he never got any respect.

But Thunder’s attention wasn’t on Ricky, or Lucy’s latest hijinks. Instead he was brooding. The past week’s adventure had been profitable, ridding himself of some pesky do-gooders, but he was not free of annoyances yet. There was still Cornelius J. Breadbuuter. His eyes narrowed at the thought of his arch nemesis. His other arch nemesis. It was not easy having two separate nemeses to keep track of. CJB was a nasty piece of work, though, and in the past ten years had been the one who had come closest to destroying him. Their battles would be the subject of poetry. Assuming, of course, they allowed any poets to view their battles and live. That was the one thing the two of them had in common: a hatred for poetry. Lousy iambic pentameter.

Movement from one of his security camera feeds caught his eye. He turned his attention to the scene at the end of his driveway where the guard booth was set up. He groaned inwardly as, after only a minute of conversation, the guard let that infernal Mrs. Henderson onto the premises. Carefully he zoomed the camera view in to get a closer look at the elderly woman. She was obviously coming empty handed. Returning the camera to its normal position, Thunder casually reached over and pressed the button that locked down his house and his secret lair, making them impenetrable to outside forces. He was only mildly surprised when her cat jumped up from its hiding place and tried to take a big bite out of his head.

With a sigh he placed the cat into the specially designed tube (known in some cultures as a cannon) to send it back to its own home (known in some cultures as firing it out of a cannon). Sighing a frustrated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Straw, fetch me a glass of sherry.”

No response.

“Straw, I am not accustomed to waiting. Now pour me my drink.”

There was still no response.

Mostly likely, thought Thunder as he sat up straight in his chair, because he is still at the hospital. The hospital that had discharged him over an hour ago. The hospital where Straw would be waiting for the ride that Thunder was to provide.

Hastily, Thunder rose to his feet, but sank back into the chair when he noticed Mrs. Henderson was still standing at the front door, tapping on it insistently. Settling back, Thunder got comfortable. It might be some time before he was able to leave his house safely.