CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories J. Posthumus (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖

in the grass was the severed head of Rex covered in dog slobber and slightly mauled.

He stared down at the remains in morbid fascination.

Well, that explained why Rex had not crowed that morning.

He is dead.

He didn’t suppose the hens would accept such a flimsy excuse for not announcing the day, but he would have to break the news.

Back at the coop, he stood in the open doorway and crowed, awakening those inside.

“Rex has been murdered,” he stated matter-of-factly.

There was much clucking among the hens. The two La Flèche youngsters bobbed their heads in unison from where they were huddled together in the far corner.

“It’s true. He was chewing on Rex’s head,” one of them said.

There was more squawking as the hens talked over each other. Monsieur Le Coq was preparing to crow again to get their attention, when a dainty hen of the purest white feathers calmly walked towards him.

“Who did it, Monsieur Le Coq?” she asked.

He almost melted at the cooing sound of her voice. She made murder sound pleasing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“It was Chien!” the La Flèche said in unison.

“It was not Chien. There was no blood anywhere on his fur. Nor does the dog have two brain cells to rub together. No, it is not him.”

“Will you find whoever killed my beloved Rex?” the hen asked.

“I will try, Madame.”

“Mademoiselle. We were not married. Rex was not one to keep company with only one hen. He has slept with every hen in here at one time or another.”

“I see. Could one of them have been jealous?”

“I don’t see how. We were all aware of his reputation. Besides, there are far fewer cocks than hens. It’s not like we have much choice if we want any kind of companionship.”

Monsieur Le Coq was aware of the disparity. Every fall, many of the young cocks born that year would go off with Madame Juliette as companions. She would leave a few to keep the hens company. When any chicken in the coop died, it was from natural causes. They had never had one murdered before.

“Please! Quiet,” Monsieur Le Coq raised his voice above the chatter.

The hens settled.

“Before we begin the search for Rex’s killer, we must deal with a more important matter. Who will take Rex’s place as Le porteur de lumiere? Without a light bringer the sun will cease rising with the dawn and our world will be plunged into darkness.”

A collective gasp went through the coop. A yearling cock who looked like a young Monsieur Le Coq approached.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’m up before everyone anyway. Except for Penny. But she can’t be Le porteur de lumiere.”

“What all say you? Shall we appoint…”

“Phillip.”

“Appoint Phillip as the new Light Bringer?”

There was a round of clucking.

“The ayes have it. Phillip is the new Le porteur de lumiere.”

He turned to Phillip. “Congratulations. Please do keep your head on.”

“I’ll try Monsieur,” he responded.

Monsieur Le Coq searched through the flock at the happy faces, all but one. An old rooster, well past his prime, in the back scowled down at the young cock. While the old bird was not likely the killer, he’d remain on the list of suspects just the same. A jealous old rooster could be just as dangerous as a young cock.

“Now that that is settled. I will start looking into the death of Rex.”

“Monsieur Le Coq, Sir, can I help?”

Monsieur Le Coq looked down to see a yellow chick fluffy with down. He couldn’t have been more than three weeks old.

“Aren’t you a little young, kid?”

“Rex was my dad, Sir,” the chick said. “I want to find out who killed him.”

Monsieur Le Coq looked in the chick’s wide pleading eyes prepared to tell him that he didn’t need the kid’s help.

“Okay, kid, but stay out of the way.”

“Gamin,” the chick interjected. “My name. It’s Gamin.”

“Whatever, kid. Let’s go find ourselves a killer.”

The chick silently trailed after Monsieur Le Coq as he headed back towards the remains of Rex. The head was still lying where Chien had dropped it.

Monsieur Le Coq put his wing out to block the chick’s approach.

“Stay back, kid. You don’t want to see your father this way.”

It was too late, though, the young face was wide with shock.

Well cluck.

“If you’re gonna be a detective, Kid, you’re gonna have to toughen up. “Monsieur Le Coq said in a soft, but matter of fact voice.

Gamin sniffed and straightened. “I can be tough.”

“That a boy. Shall we carry on?”

“Yes, Sir.” Gamin looked at the ground. “But, may I look away?”

“Of course.”

Monsieur Le Coq turned back to the head. He leaned forward to examine the corpse. As he moved closer, the head split into two, which seemed rather odd. He moved away and it merged back into one head. He moved closer and it again became two.

He jumped away from the head.

“What kind of witchcraft is this?”

“What?” Gamin asked, staring wide eyed at Monsieur Le Coq.

“When I get close, the head turns into two. When I’m away, it becomes one.”

“Mamma says to look at things up close with one eye and it won’t look like that.”

“Hmmm.”

Monsieur Le Coq approached the head and in exaggerated form, he cocked his head to the side and lowered himself within a few inches of the remains. He could clearly see the ants trailing across Rex’s mauled feathers.

“It seems your mamma was correct. It did not split into two this time.”

The area around the neck was severed cleanly as if by a large powerful beak or jaws. It looked like it had been a quick death. Some of Chein’s golden fur was stuck in the dried slobber on the comb.

Monsieur Le Coq took the comb in his beak and flipped the head over to look at the other side. He shook a stray ant off his beak. The other side gave no additional clues.

“The body isn’t giving me much to go on. There must be feathers or something around here to indicate where the murder took place. Come along, kid, we have a murder