Breathing a moan of alleviation, I sat down to appreciate a twofold chicken-burger with firm chicken wings as an afterthought. Three times I figured out how to push them back whence they came, and secure humankind a couple of more years as the overwhelming types of this planet.Īfter their last withdraw, I set out toward my nearby Space Burger to loll in the gleam of my current triumph. Three times they attacked, each time with progressively mischievous plans. Screeches, quills flying, the possess a scent reminiscent of burned chicken all over the place.
With an oily finger I set my lasers to “additional fresh” and launched to block the fowl trespassers. I dropped my half-eaten chicken burger and hopped in my cockpit. I in a split second recognized what must be finished. Attacking intergalactic chickens, out to rebuff mankind for our persecution of their natural brethren.
They came all of a sudden, screeching menacingly, their unsettled quills obscuring the sun. The recollections still consume profoundly, similar to fiery chicken wings. I recollect the day of the intrusion well.
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