Not really bartending?

[fowl_beast]

There's an impressively sized chicken perched on Bar's countertop. It wasn't there a just a moment ago. Maybe it is tonights bartender, maybe it is not. Either way, there is nothing on the specials board yet.

Chickens don't have hands, you see.

Comments

[havetubawilltravel]

Hmmm.

"You're awfully big for a chicken!" Pinkie says, stating the obvious.

Then, because she MUST say it, she adds, "do you know why you crossed the road, boy?!"

[fowl_beast]

"You're awfully pink for a pony!" the chicken answers. It cocks it's head at the pony and remarks, "Even your name is pink."

Finding out names is one of the chicken's numerous talents.

"I have never had to cross the road," the chicken says, puffing up with pride. "Crossing roads is for other chickens."

[havetubawilltravel]

She bobs her head enthusiastically at that little reminder. "I know, isn't it keen!?" She sounds pretty proud of her pinkness, in any event.

Pinkie, naturally, presumes she told it to him at some point - she does know everybody after all. "Ooh? Why are you such a special guy? Is it cause you're soooo tall?"

[fowl_beast]

"Why yes!" the chicken says. "Also because I have studied magic, and I am quite accomplished in the art of teleportation."

In two puffs of smoke the chicken disappears from the bar countertop and appears on the floor in front of Pinkie. Thinking that standing in front of a pony is a bad idea, it *POOFS* back on top of the bar. Pink friendly looking ponies still have very stompy hooves, you know.

"If I want to be on the other side of the road, I will be on the other side of the road."

[havetubawilltravel]

This?

Is totally impressive to Pinkie.

Not that she can't bend the fourth wall a bit herself - as she proves by poofing into existence directly INSIDE of the tray of ice next to the bottles of draft. She claps her hooves in delight.

"Betcha can't do THAT!"

[fowl_beast]

*POOF*

Now there is both a chicken and pony in the ice tray. "Why did you think I couldn't?" There are also ice cubes all over the place.

A hose snakes out from underneath the bar and lightly taps Evil Chicken and Pinky Pie. When Evil Chicken takes notice, it looks like the hose is still deciding to spray first.

[havetubawilltravel]

...You are clearly a formidable partner in fourth-wall breaking, mister chicken.

Let us hope they won't warp the multiverse.

"Ooh, you're good!"

Don't ask how, but Pinkie's up in the rafters.

On a unicycle.

Evil chicken's gonna get a beakfull of water first!

[fowl_beast]

The hose let's out a torrent of water but the chicken is not there.

Who's going to clean up that mess now?

Is the chicken a rooster? Everyone in his world seems confused about whether or not she is. But the chicken is roosting in the rafters now. "Well, that I can't do. Where did that contraption come from?" This Pinkie Pie is a very odd pony.

[havetubawilltravel]

Leave it for the Loompas pft Pinkie will get guilty and clean it up.

Chickens can be male or female. They are many. Contain multitudes.

Pinkie shrugs and starts juggling oranges. "I've got unicycles hidden all over the bar - for unicycle-riding emergencies."

[fowl_beast]

"That is an interesting type of emergency; what other emergencies are you prepared for?"

It is unlikely he'll ever catch this pony unawares so gathering information on her won't be of any benefit. Maybe. But its not like he can get away with hunting here. Oh well, this is fun.

[havetubawilltravel]

"Welllll...."

She turns around and produces two pineapple pies, a bicycle pump, a chocolate rabbit and twelve baseball cards.

"There's lots of emergencies."

No eating Pinkie! She'll likely be too sweet to be digested anyway.

[herr_bookman]

There's something fowl in the bar. And Autor is seriously confused.

"All right," he asks, setting his book on the bar. "Are you a wizard who screwed up on a potion today? Or are you an actual bird?"

[fowl_beast]

"No no no, the story is that a wizard screwed up while summoning a demon!" says the chicken. "One of the stories, anyhow." Whether the chicken is a wizard, a demon, or an actual oversized, talking chicken is an exercise left to the reader.

"I am also a bird." Whether it is a hen or a rooster is also an exercise left to the reader. But the magnificent (at least it thinks so) comb points toward rooster.

[herr_bookman]

"That may be 'one of the stories'," Autor says coolly, propping his arms on the bar, "but that doesn't mean it's one of the stories about you, or even explains where you come from."

He cups his chin in his hand. "Are you immortal?"

[fowl_beast]

"Maybe I should add another story about my origins to ... hmmm, I will have to convince someone to start telling a new story about me. This time it should involve mad scientists."

"It depends on your definition immortal. I would say so, anyhow. Death has a hard time keeping me in one place. I suppose I am an escape artist rather than immortal, then." The chicken puffs up with pride. "I think I annoy him; he doesn't even try anymore."

Wait... something doesn't make sense here. The chicken cocks its head at the boy and asks, "What makes you ask, Autor?"

Meet Evil Chicken's talent for names, Autor.

[herr_bookman]

"Just because a story is real doesn't make it true," Autor murmurs, remembering Coyote's words. At the mention of his name, though, he jumps back two feet. "What!" he cries, wincing as his eyes widen.

"Okay," he says, and sits down in a barstool. "Please answer me honestly. Are you telepathic? Or a hallucination?"

Then he lays his head on the counter. "Oh, you're the latter, aren't you? Damn it."

Autor would probably be better able to handle this presumptuous chicken if he'd slept well in the past week, but two to four hours per day has him twitching. And he knows hallucinations a little too well. It's less likely given Milliways, but there's no reason this bird can't be one.


[OOC: Hahaha! What is that icon I don't even...]

[fowl_beast]

[OOC: the nearly extinct Kakapo of New Zealand, folks!]

"And what if I am a hallucination?" The chicken seems insulted, but wisely hasn't denied being illusory. It could come in handy, being illusory.

[herr_bookman]

[OOC: Augh, you just made it worse!]

"Are you getting your feathers ruffled over whether or not you're a denizen of someone else's head?" the kid says, smiling painfully. "That's rather existential of you."

Then he shakes his head. "But if you were, it would have less to do with you and more to do with me. You'd be auditory and visual, and..." he trails off, and pokes the chicken. "Tactile, too. Interesting. I don't think I'm schizophrenic, even though they tend to have complex hallucinations involving animals. It's more likely that I'm so sleep-deprived that I'm having an discussion with a temporary psychosis. Wonderful.

"Hey, maybe that's your new creation story," he muses, dizzy. "A fever dream made manifest by the power of narrative, coalesced by residual magic. Dregs, really."

[fowl_beast]

The chicken pecks the hand that pokes it.

"That is as good story as any of the others. I like you, you are inventive."

[herr_bookman]

"Ow," he says, and draws his hand back. "I'm not sure I like you, but I'm fairly certain that doesn't matter."

He frowns again, and the movement pulls at his swollen skin. "How do you know my name?"

[fowl_beast]

"Your name is floating right above your head. I am am psychic though, and my psychic powers are not only confined to knowing a person's name and knowing when they are distracted."

"Seriously though, why are you asking a giant teleporting chicken that kind of question?"

[herr_bookman]

"To get more information," he says. "Like, for example, that you teleport."

He leans back, and folds his arms, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. "And I'm asking because anyone who knows my name without asking me is already suspicious? And good heavens, you use it so casually, too! Gah."

At the word psychic, Autor slouch has vanished. Straight-backed, he eases himself down off of his bar stool. "I think you're lying," he says, glaring at the bird. "About all of it."

Then he steps back. "But I can't take that chance."

Feeling uncomfortable turning his back on the evil animal--and subsequently silly for that feeling--Autor turns on his heel and walks away.

[fowl_beast]

Oh, that is tempting. A tasty pre-tenderized human just walking away? Just one gust would knock him over!

Bwuk Bwuk.

Oh, like anyone here would let him enjoy a meal in peace. The chicken decides to let Autor go in peace and opt to go back to not tending the bar.

Fucking Milliways.

Wait, maybe there is some fried chicken in the kitchen! And with that thought and a puff of smoke, the Evil Chicken disappears.