Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Chapter 41

Better Late Than Never

The doorbell rang.

Straw Daq looked at Thunderfunk the Superchicken who stared blankly at his pilot.

The doorbell rang again.

Both man and chicken looked around, gazing at the walls and ceiling.

Once more, the doorbell rang.

Finally Straw ventured to speak. “Did...did you have a doorbell installed down here?”

“No...” said Thunder slowly, drawing out the word.

“Hey Thunder?”

“Yes?”

“The sock puppet is gone.”

“I know.”

They cowered in fear again.

This time, the doorbell tolled.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” snapped Thunder, suddenly angry. “I’m going to answer the door.” He rose to his feet and glancing fearfully at the last place they had seen the sock puppet, he strode towards the door.

“Which door?” came Straw’s quavering voice.

Thunderfunk stopped, considering. As a safety precaution against attack, he had installed a large number of doors, giving him many options for a hasty retreat. With a muttered curse, he turned towards Straw. “I’ll take this half,” he said, pointing to his right, “and you take the other half.” He stalked away, muttering under his breath.

Thirty minutes later they were down to four doors. The doorbell had continued to ring incessantly during the entire time. Every time it sounded, Straw let out a frustrated whimper. He opened a door cleverly hidden behind a large picture of a gate, but there was no one there.

Ding-dong. Whimper.

Thunder grabbed a door handle and flung it open. “What?!” he bellowed.

The figure at the door jumped back, startled. Thunder also jumped back, surprised to see someone standing there. Both took a moment to compose themselves as Straw wandered over.

“Here you go,” said the shadowy figure, thrusting a briefcase towards Thunder.

Nodding at his protege, Thunder watched as Straw grabbed the case and set it on a table before opening it. Even from a distance, Thunder could see that it was full of money. “What is this?” he growled.

“Ransom.”

“Ransom?”

“Yes, ransom.”

Thunder looked at the man, then at Straw, then back at the man. “Ah,” he said. And with that, he swung the door shut.

“Can we have our mayor back?” said the man, his voice muffled by the closed door. Thunder opened it, annoyed that the man was still there.

“Go away,” he said crabbily.

“I want to, but I need to take the mayor with me. You said we could have him back if we paid.”

“You did say that,” said Straw as he finished counting the money. Shutting the case, he picked it up again. “It’s all here, and there is even some extra.”

“Yeah, we want our bus drivers back too.” The man seemed almost sheepish, as though embarrassed to be asking for them as well.

Thunder’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he briefly considered killing the man where he stood, but all of the energy went out of him. “Very well,” he said, a pained look on his face. “But I’m keeping their pants.” He shut the door again.

Twenty minutes later the mayor marched through the door at the head of a long line of pantless men and women. When the last straggler had made his way out, the door was slammed shut again. Thunder and Straw left the secret lair and made their way to the sitting room.

“What just happened?” asked Thunder once they were settled in.

Straw merely shrugged. He opened the case again and looked inside. “Huh,” he said, closing it again, looking over at Thunder, resigned dismay written all over his face.

“Let me guess,” said Thunder, rubbing his temples as though that action was a miracle cure for headaches. “The sock puppet is in the case.”

“Yup.”

“And it wasn’t there before?”

“Nope.”

“And the case has not been opened or out of your hand since you counted it?”

“Not even for a second.”

“I think,” said Thunderfunk slowly. “That I,” he continued angrily. “That I may cry,” he finished weakly.

And he did.

Fools of us All - Chapter 41

“Go ahead,” I said dully, “turn us in. I don’t care anymore.” I kept looking for the guards to come bursting in on us.

“Turn you in, my dear?” said the hooded scrivener, a note of amusement in his voice. “It has been entirely too long since I have had a chance to speak to a young woman that I see no reason to cut a chat short before it has even begun.” Lifting his hands, he lowered his hood, revealing a smiling face, his mouth surrounded by laugh lines and crow’s feet crinkling the corner of his eyes. Thick, white hair covered his head in an unruly mop, and his blue eyes sparkled with private amusement. “You must be the horrible ruffians I’ve heard so much about. You really have the entire building in an uproar, telling tales of how mean you are and how rough you play.”

Spin managed a smirk at me and I could feel my face turn red. “That’s all her,” he said. “I’m mostly here ‘cuz I’m pretty.”

I waited for my face to return to normal before lowering my own hood. “I am sorry if anyone has suffered…”

“Oh poppycock,” broke in the old man. “I know the men hear. Frankly, many of the younger ones could stand to be hit more often. Actually, a few of us old codgers likely need it from time to time as well.” His eyes lost focus for a moment before gazing intently at me again. “Now, as I said, you have some ‘splainin’ to do.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Spin interrupted. “I’m sorry, but have you been time travelling lately? I mean, ‘some ‘splainin’ to do’? That’s old by my time!” He sounded angry and suspicious, as though he didn’t trust what he was hearing. I could not blame him.

“Your time…ah, so the stories are true. Someone has broken the time barrier.” Smiling, he stepped forward and grabbed the book, tucking it under his arm. “Follow me,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at Spin who merely shrugged. We had little choice.

A few moments later we were in an even danker and darker corner of the basement, sitting around a small desk. “Welcome to my office,” said the scrivener proudly as he closed the door. “Now, perhaps I have some explaining to do as well. First, my name is Bartleby…” he smiled at Spin’s snort. “A coincidence, I assure you. I have spent much of my adulthood learning of the ancient time. I find the past to be fascinating, full of wisdom and amusement. I have read every scrap of material I could find from the past - the originals in English, French, German, and a host of other languages that no one but myself and a select few of my colleagues speak, at least in their pure form. But you, how have you learned to speak our language so quickly?” He leaned forward excitedly, smiling at Spin.

It suddenly occurred to me that the two of us had never had trouble speaking, even though language had evolved since his time. I stared at him, puzzled.

He looked at the two of us and shook his head. “Um…I guessed?” he said weakly.

“Fascinating. Perhaps the time travel affects the language centres of your brain, giving you the ability to speak whatever language you come into. Maybe I will get to try it someday.”

Suddenly, Spin’s eyes flashed. “Well, this all seems awfully convenient, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean,” I asked, taken aback. “I think most of today has been pretty inconvenient, don’t you?”

“And in the end, we find ourselves alone with a man who happens to spend his time studying the past. I bet he’ll have all sorts of wonderful things to say about the prophecy.” The sarcasm dripped from his words.

“What prophecy?”

It was the last thing I expected him to say. I turned to face him. “The prophecy. The one about the chosen one coming from the past to save the future. Or maybe you know about the other prophecy, the one where the hero’s companion would be betrayed and killed.” I glanced guiltily at Spin, who mouthed the words ‘other prophecy’ at me, tilting his head. I had not told him of Dun’s words to me back at the warehouse.

“And these…prophecies…” said Bartleby, an odd expression on his face, “where are they supposed to be found.” He followed my gaze down to the book in front of him. A great sadness fell over his countenance. “There is no prophecy in this book,” he said sadly. “At least, none that we know of. This book has been in the scrivener’s possession for the past fifty years, and thus far, no one has been able to translate anything in it.”

It felt as though I was punched by a snowman. A deep, icy cold settled into the pit of my stomach, making it hard to breath. I couldn’t speak for a long time. My entire life had been a lie.

Spin rallied faster than I did. “How can you be so sure. You’re just some pathetic weirdo who spends way too much time in the dark corner of the basement.”

“This isn’t my only office,” he said. “Being the head of the scriveners worldwide does tend to give one certain privileges.”

Spin collapsed back in his seat, covering his face with his hands. “We’re sitting with the freaking pope,” he moaned.

“Pope? Ah, a quaint term, but quite apropos.”

I felt nothing. A numbness had fallen on me, leaving the world far away. “I…I have to go,” I mumbled, lurching to my feet.

“I can’t escort you out,” said Bartleby, a look of concern on his face. “It is important that I appear to be rather harsh with intruders. If you are caught I may not be able to help you.

“We have our own exit,” I said flatly.

“The tunnel in the Torah room?” At my sharp look, he smiled. “You don’t get to be ‘the freaking pope’ without learning a thing or two. Go, and I will do my best to get people away from that section.”

As we exited the room, I saw Spin run his fingers across the cover of the book one last time. “So you can’t read anything in this book at all.”

“The interior of the book is written in a language no one has ever seen before. The only thing we know for sure is what is written on the cover.”

“Why do you know that?”

“It is written in ancient Aramaic, a language that is beneficial to know at times.”

“What does it say?” I asked, curious despite myself.

Looking at the cover, Bartleby’s voice gained a far away quality. “The truth lies within, for those willing to seek.”

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Chapter 40

And Yet I Have Nothing Against Clowns

“Are you sure about this plan?” Straw swivelled in his chair, muting the sound on the TV. The late news had just played the ransom video, and as usual, it was a masterpiece. There was a good chance it would be nominated for a villain’s choice award.

“Of course I’m sure,” snapped Thunder. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“It just seems a bit...weak,” replied Straw. He rose to his feet and stepped over the bus driver he had been using for a foot stool. “What’s the end game? Why are you doing all of this? Obviously you aren’t going to get paid any money for this one. Ransoms never work. All it does is make people angry and get heroes sent after you.”

“Ah, but you are missing the larger picture, lad. This plan is not about the monetary gain. It is about image and perception. The ease with which I disrupted their transportation and commerce, followed by the kidnapping of a political leader shows how easy it is for me to wreak any manner of havoc which I choose at any time I choose. People will live in fear because of me.”

Straw sat down, sipping at his cognac. “Okay, that’s fair. When you look at it that way, it makes more sense. Sometimes I forget how big picture you are. I just have one question.”

“And that is?”

“Wait, I lied, it’s actually two questions. First, what is that, and second, how did it get here?” He pointed just behind Thunderfunk’s head at something in the shadows of the cavernous room. Thunder reached out slowly and hit a switch which flooded that cave with light. Sitting on the railing of the TV area was a sock puppet. The same sock puppet that Cornelius J. Breadbuuter’s assistant Tom had been wearing the other day. Only now, there was no hand controlling it.

The puppet did not move, though the googly eyes were moving slightly as though it had recently been in motion. After a long time of not doing nothing, it continued to do nothing.

“Hey Thunder?” whispered Straw.

“Yes?” The giant chicken was whispering back.

“Are you hallucinating right now?”

“I don’t know. Can you see the sock puppet?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, I am not hallucinating.” A pause. “Are you?”

“I don’t usually hallucinate until I’ve had much more to drink.”

The puppet blinked. Actually, it didn’t blink, but it seemed like it should have. It was not natural to go that long without blinking. Thunder finally blinked for it, just to ease his mind. It did not help. “Options?” he inquired of his protege.

“Well, we could cower in fear. Or we could drink until it goes away.”

“Both good options. I vote we cower in fear for a while. I haven’t had a good cower in some time.”

“Agreed.”

Thunder and Straw cowered together as the puppet looked on, laughing menacingly.

Wait, no. The puppet didn’t do anything, but it seemed like it should be laughing menacingly.
Puppets are creepy.

Fools of us All - Chapter 40

We found ourselves in a large room in the basement. The air was musty and a chill permeated everything we could see. The light was dim, leaving shadows to rule the corners. I shivered under my heavy robe, moaning as my arm throbbed with pain. I was not doing well.

Heavy footfalls sounded nearby and we dove into the darkness, hiding behind a stone pillar. Two guards ran into the room, pausing for a moment before running out again. Once their steps had receded we continued forward to the only source of light in the room. A large book was sitting on a stand underneath a single light. The book was large and looked to be quite ancient. The leatherbound cover had indecipherable phrases etched into it.

We had found it.

Neither one of us wanted to be the first to touch it. It seemed to loom before us, weighing us down with the expectations we had for it. This was the book that had driven Caz’s life, and the book that had plucked me from my own time to a future I should never have seen. We did not speak. We could not speak.

Working up my courage, I stepped forward, a sudden feeling of nausea hitting me. The room spun for a second and I reached out, grabbing the stand to steady myself. When the room had settled down, I took a deep breath, running my fingers across the cover of the book. “The truth lies within, for those willing to seek,” I muttered, feeling the rough cut of the characters and the leather.

“What was that?” asked Caz, whispering, her voice swallowed by the vastness of the room.

“Nothing,” I responded. Cautiously, I turned the cover, half-expecting lightning to strike or for something to come leaping out, but besides it obvious ancient age, it was like any other book I had read. Except it was not in any language I could understand.

I flipped a few more pages, but it was all in the same script, undecipherable. I wondered if it was a language I had seen before because it somehow seemed familiar, but I was not sure why. I glanced over at Caz, expecting her to be reading, but instead she was staring at me.

“Do you know what it says?” she asked.

“No. Do you?”

She shook her head.

Simultaneously, we turned our heads and looked back at the book. “Now what?” she asked, her voice full of pain.

The question became moot when a heavy hand landed on our shoulders. “Now you have some explaining to do,” came a voice from behind us. I glanced at Caz, half expecting to see her tensing for a fight, but instead there was nothing but resignation on her face. And I could not blame her.

We were defeated.

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Chapter 39

Behind The Scenes

Many hours later, Straw swung his feet around and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Two more bus drivers, one with his hat stuck firmly on his head, were laying on the floor, bound and gagged. “Sorry guys,” he said sympathetically, stepping over their prone bodies, doing his best to avoid their pleading eyes, “but he’s my boss...” With an apologetic shrug, he stepped into the hall. Seconds later he returned to his room and hastily threw on some clothing.

Running through the halls he finally made his way to the secret lair, skidding to a halt at the computer screens. Leaning forward, he breathed heavily. “Either this house is too big,” he panted, “or I need to lay off the nachos.”

“I would say it is the latter,” said Thunderfunk the Superchicken as he swivelled his chair
around to face his young pilot.

“Geez!” said Straw. “Don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You’ll be happy to report that the plan is well underway. I am just editing the ransom video now.” He turned back to his work. Straw glanced up at the giant screen. Thunderfunk’s face was stopped mid-word, his eyes half closed, proving once again that it was possible to make anyone look like a doofus if the tape is stopped at the right place.

The video began again. “...and upon the payment of the random...shoot. I’m going again. In three, two, one...Good evening people of our fair city. I understand that today was somewhat of a frustrating day for many of you. Perhaps you will rest easier knowing that there are those who are having a much worse day than you. In fact, our mayor may have some thoughts about that.” Thunder rose from his seat and walked to the camera, disappearing from view. Seconds later the shot slowly began to pan. “It is much harder to record these things by oneself,” whispered Thunder as he made notes. The mayor appeared, handcuffed to a chair with a sock stuffed in his mouth and a giant moustache drawn on him in sharpie. From off screen Thunder’s voice continued. “I have captured your mayor and am willing to return him for the princely sum of one billion dollars. Actually, I would prefer one billion and four dollars so that I can purchase a pair of slurpees.” The camera returned to its previous position and Thunder returned to his seat. “And upon the payment of the ransom...”

Straw tuned out the speech, knowing the basics of it without needing to know the details. He walked to the railing that ran around the edge of the computer platform. The room was packed with kidnapped bus drivers, all of them laying extremely quiet and extremely motionless. “Thunder...?” said Straw.

“Oh relax, I just gave them all a mild sedative. It will wear off eventually.”

“Mild?”

“If you’re an elephant. An extremely hyper elephant. Oh wait, what is that? Did that pen move? Who’s in charge of continuity on this thing?” He scribbled more notes furiously.

Noticing the mayor still handcuffed to his chair, Straw headed down and removed the sock from the man’s mouth. “Sorry your honour,” he said. “He’s been in a bit of a funk lately.”

The mayor looked up at the screen. “Hey, it’s the price a mayor has to pay when he allows megalomaniacs to live in his town. But tell me the truth, did I convey the proper sense of fear and concern? I had one take where I really nailed it, but I think he stumbled a bit, so he may not use it.”

“Don’t worry about that, sir. Thunder is quite good at editing these videos. Remember the whole senator incident? I barely had anything to do with that one beyond operating the camera. I swear we did forty takes before he was satisfied with his performance. I thought he was crazy, but it turns out he was...right...” Briefly, Straw wondered what had happened in his life that he could so casually talk about the many kidnappings and extortion schemes in which he had been involved.

Looking down at the mayor, he shrugged to himself. “Meh, beats being a dentist.” With that he stuffed the sock back in the mayor’s mouth and headed up to the computer platform, already planning on the graphics he might add to spice up the video.

Fools of us All - Chapter 39

I briefly considered leaving him where he had collapsed, but I knew we needed to stay together. I sat down beside him and leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes, just for a moment…

“Hey, you okay?”

I jerked awake, convinced that I was about to be attacked. Instead it was just Spin standing over me. In the dim light his form wavered unsteadily. Leaping to my feet, I put out a hand, giving him something to hold on to. “I’m fine,” I said. “You’re the one who’s not doing okay.”

“True.” He leaned against the wall. “What’s the plan?”

I pressed myself against the door, looking through the peephole. “They should have given up on finding us by now. We’ll sneak inside and find the prophecy.”

“And then?”

“...I don’t know.”

Thunderfunk, the Superchicken - Chapter 38

Because Sometimes the Author Gets Busy

Thunderfunk sat back in his chair and surveyed his domain. The plan had started out well and now there were bus drivers scattered everywhere he looked. It was an important first strike!


Straw sat up in bed suddenly, looking around wildly. After a moment he decided nothing was amiss. He laid back down, hoping the bound and gagged bus driver in the corner would quiet down. Cracking one eye open, he stared at the man. Had he been there all night? It was so hard to keep track of...zzzzzz


Mr Penticton narrowed his eyes and took stock of his setting. He had been flung a great distance this time, but he would not be thwarted. Soon he would attack his foe again, and this time, victory would be his. Had he been a person, he would have thrown his head back and laughed. However, being a cat, he instead sat down and licked himself.

Fools of us All - Chapter 38

The next few hours were a haze of motion. The beating I had received combined with the action of avoiding hordes of angry scriveners and their well armed guards to keep me in a state of near collapse. Finally we found ourselves in a room that I did not recognise, but which Caz moved confidently. A nearly naked man was sitting in the corner, rubbing his head. I winced as Caz walked over to him and punched him in the face. He slumped over silently.

With a near silent hiss, a giant round door suddenly swung open. Waving me forward, Caz disappeared into the dark opening. I followed, and the door shut behind me, leaving us in inky darkness.

Either that or I passed out. I’m not completely sure on the details.