Back up on the chicken, Krumbumbum’s scalp tingled as she sensed someone insulting her pet theory. She turned to Biscuit Pisser, fuming.

“Biscuit Pisser, I have a question.”

“Fire away, woman.”

“Can we park the chicken? Like in a way where we could leave it where it is and come back to it later.”

“I believe so. But if you want to go down there wouldn’t it be easier to just fly down?”

“Shut the cluck up, Biscuit Pisser.”

Sir Broderick watched as his companions flew the chicken down and landed it ungracefully atop the dome, its wings fueling the fires sprouting over the skyacht that was seemingly sinking downward at an increasing rate.

“About time you ladies showed up.”

“How in the cluck are you a man again, Broderica?”

“I don’t know I got mad and it just kind of happened.”

“Maybe you’re losing your touch, Krumbumbum.”

“Ehhhehhhehhehhh ehhehehhh ehhehhehhEHHHhhehhehhh…”

Sir Broderick barfed in his mouth. “I did not just clucking hear that!”

Michael and Blitswald and indeed even Sir Broderick’s beloved ass disappeared in a puff of skysand. Tears bubbled in Green Garey’s eye as memories stuck him like daggers.

“Eaxcrete mae, whaat waas thaat filthay skayrate doaing waith may paooch?”

It was the stone jawed rich cranberry of a man from back when Sir Broderick had tits, standing in inpunity next to Frinkles’ unconscious body. He did not look any less interested in Sir Broderick.

From the billowing skysand emerged the disgrossting spectacle of the unscathed blob man.

“Ehwell ehwell ehweeeeelll…ehI ehbet ehyou ehthought ehyou’d ehgotten ehrid ehof ehme…ehhhehehhhehh…”

“Seeing as I saw the chicken light you on fire,” Sir Broderick belched, “I am quite surprised.”

Biscuit Pisser glided down the chicken with ease and pulled out a knife.

“Back the cluck up you disgrossting blobby tumor or I’ll stab you where the sun has severe difficulty shining!”

“Ehtryy ehme, ehBiscuit ehPisser!”

“It’s Barroness Von Biscuit Pisser you clucking disgrace!” Biscuit Pisser screamed and flailed forward. She stabbed the air erratically as the blob took two steps back and laughed disgrosstingly. “Stop it you clucking vussy I’m going to cluck you up!”

Before Sir Broderick could pop open a flask and get more intoxicated, a gerbilly voice rang through his ears. “Oh sweet glorious cock no.”

The hulking form of Jeffrey with a G pounced on him, locking him to the ground and giggling like a helium junky. The skyacht sank lower. It was starting to magic like they were falling. Flames and smoke licked the sky.

“Get off me you clucking creep!”

It was now that Pamela, Green Garey and Purple Perry realized something. Pamela fortunately enough was still able to sketch plentiful helpings of nudity but otherwise they were paralyzed.

Krumbumbum hopped off the chicken and twisted one of her ankles when she landed.

“Motherclucker!” she twiddled with one of her nose hairs and the ankle straightened itself up. “Whew. Now. I know this looks bad, everybody.”

“Who are you talking to you insufferable punt?” Sir Broderick groaned as he struggled under Jeffrey with a G’s high-pitched grasp.

GASP

Everyone stopped doing everything. The flames paused their flaming. The skyacht stopped falling. Frinkles regained consciousness and then lost it again after he realized what he’d just heard.

“Thaat waas reallay uncallaed faor,” the fluidly sexual concrete jawed true owner of Michael vitched.

“Oh cluck off,” Sir Broderick rolled his eyes.

Everything started happening again.

Krumbumbum looked around, squinting suspiciously. “Something’s amiss.”

“Something?” Sir Broderick choked on smoke, “That’s an interesting way to say everything.”

“No, stupid! I mean something’s actually amiss.”

KSKJKHJHKBKBKKBKKKCKKBKKBKKGHKGKSSHSHSHHSHSHHSHGKTJTKBJKBHJKBHJKGHBKGJBKGJKGJKTJVKKKKKKKKKKKKSHHHHHHHH

The skyacht smashed into the two other crashed skyships that had until recently been far below it. The flames exploded in height and veracity. Everyone was sweating.

“That definitely counts as amiss, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes, Biscuit Pisser, but I wasn’t really talking about that.”

Biscuit Pisser sighed and huffed as she continued to stab at the air right next to the blob, who continually sidestepped her and gloated.

“I know what it is!” Krumbumbum ejaculated gleefully.

“GET OUT OF MY CLUCKING LEOTARD PUNT!”

Krumbumbum could hardly register what was happening before she was tackled by none other than the poorly made up face of Mister Magick, that most womanly of people referred to as Mister. She was holding a large shard of glass that was cutting her fingers terribly.

“Wait you’re clucking alive?” Krumbumbum gasped in wonder.

“Wha—Yes I’m alive you shrively old vitch!”

“I’m not shrively..”

Everyone looked at Krumbumbum with disbelieving sideye.

“I’m not.”

The sideye got even worse.

“Cockhamn you all!” screamed Mister Magick, and with a wave of her fingers Jeffrey with a G and the blob puffed into skysand. Biscuit Pisser and Sir Broderick tried to start talking but their mouths sealed shut like jar lids.

“Holy shit. It was an illusion the whole time?”

“I’m a clucking warlock you stupid vitch! I thought you’d figured it all out already!”

“No? I was going to say that I was dehydrated and that’s why my coordination was so bad. Caused me to twist my ankle jumping off the chicken and whatnowfor.”

“Cockhamnit you’re stupid as hen!”

“Hownowbrowncow we don’t want to offend Brumhilda do we?” Krumbumbum gestured to the towering chicken before them.

“I don’t clucking care what Brumhilda thinks!”

Brumhilda didn’t react, but deep in her vacant eyes the faintest hint of paint echoed.

“Nice job now you’ve gone and hurt her magicings you soulless hag.”

“I’m not a hag!”

“Stop squeezing that glass shard so tightly you’re going to hurt yourself!” Krumbumbum fussed as Mister Magick’s blood dripped all over her face.

“Ugh fine!” Mister Magick threw the shard away. It lodged in Frinkles’ foot.

“You know,” Krumbumbum rested a hand on Mister Magick’s soft exposed thigh, “Your makeup looks really horrible.”

“Well,” she sniffled, “You could use about ten pounds of it.”

“Do you know I’m actually a man under the shining veneer of this spell?”

“Yes. I saw you defile my leotard as one.”

“Do you think we’re all going to burn alive or do you think all of the ships will hit the ground before that has a chance to happen?”

“That’s a hood question.”

“What is that what are you doing there Mister Magick?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you dry humping me a little bit?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes you do.”

“No you don’t. I’m pretty sure it’s just the falling ships rocking us around.”

“There’s no way in hen that’s what happening.”

The muffled screams of everyone else softly resounded through the whirring air of their descent as Krumbumbum and Mister Magick continued to argue about whether they were dry humping or not. Mister Magick soon got so distracted her warlock powers waned.

THWAKK

Mister Magick fell to her side, unconscious. Sir Broderick had run up to them, taken his saucepan helmet off and whacked her in the head with it.

“You jerk,” whined Krumbumbum.

“You disgrosst me,” Sir Broderick spat, farted, and burped.

“I’m just frustrated,” Biscuit Pisser sat down and sighed. “I feel like we’re all clucked now. Just falling to the ground. Everything’s on fire. If only there was some way we could easily just fly away from all this mess and catch that evil captain.”

“Aye concur,” nodded Green Garey. “Purple Perry, aye see now why ye were so keen on chasing arrgfter he.”

“Thank ye, Green Garey, for varrglidating me in this waye.”

“Yea sure whatever,” Pamela sighed, wishing she had a toothbrush.

Frinkles sprung to life. “W’weyul, a’aheeyuh t’thank th’thayut i’ifns a’ahey c’cowld p’awur u’uwp m’ah f’fewt j’jeyutpayucks a’ah c’cowud f’flayeay u’us a’awl a’wayuh n’ s’sayuf th’uh d’ayee!”

“Or,” Sir Broderick tossed a glass flask astray, “We could ride on the giant chicken that’s standing right here behind everyone.”

And that’s what they did.

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

With every flurryful flap Brumhilda grew closer to the skytrain.

“Does anybody have some food?”

“Aye harrve some pygmaye chicken narrgetts in me sarrtchel,” Green Garey produced lint encrusted nuggest from his pouch.

“Green Garey what in the cluck is wrong with you?” Pamela scoffed.

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

Green Garey simply shook his hook at her notebook in response. Abated, Pamela watched as Biscuit Pisser clutched the nuggest and chucked them down towards the chicken’s eager beak, which snapped over them quickly.

“Thanks. She was hungry.”

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

“Biscuit Pisser,” Krumbumbum whined, “I’m worried that you aren’t steering the chicken very well.”

“Shut the cluck up you salty vitch I am steering this chicken great thank you very much.”

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

“I don’t know it looks like you’re about to crash into the back of the skytrain.”

“No I’m not cluck the cluck off.”

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

“It kind of does look like that actually.”

“Shut the cluck up Shitface you drunk fussy digrossting little—”

CHFFFFFFFFFSHHHKHKHHKHKSHHHHHH

Biscuit Pisser crashed the chicken into the back of the skytrain. Metal buckled around everyone and they could hear faint screams of people who were undoubtedly in the process of facing white, feathery annhilation.

“Don’t you say a clucking word either of you two I see your clucking faces you disgrossting excuses for humanity well you can all go the cluck to hen I did my cockhamned best cockhammit!” Biscuit Pisser ejaculated over the sounds of passengers screaming and crying for their families as the skytrain set ablaze and they melted alive.

“Look at this horrible mess you’re making Biscuit Pisser now there’s blood all over Brumhilda!” Sir Broderick rasped. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to clean her up?”

“Well,” Krumbumbum krumbutted in, “I actually have a cleaning spell that would make it pretty easy.”

Pamela blinked, ferociously scribbling and flipping to new pages. “This action needs to slow down, I’m missing so many juicy details. I wish I had a photographic memory.”

“Aye think ye will be fine,” Green Garey rolled his eye.

“All of this could have been arrrvoided if ye had believed in me and me trusty grappling hook,” Purple Perry posited.

“Yaou peoplae arae terrifyaing.”

Everyone turned to the stuck up louse and ejaculated, “Cluck off!”

BFRRRRRSHHHHBBMMPHFFFFFF

Something exploded near the bottom of the railcar they had invaded, sending it flying up in a bump from the skytrack before crashing back into the track’s warping path in a flurry of wood shards and metal scraps.

KKKSSHKKSKKHKKKKK

“Alright Brumhilda you just wait here and take it easy,” Biscuit Pisser addressed the chicken, whose bottom body half was dangling out the blasted open railcar into the air, flailing wildly.