Tales of the Admins

[|nfrared]

On the Temple of the Damned in the Moderator initiation chamber @|nfrared had what can only be described as a hallucination (probably the result of the methods used in his capture)...

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The cage was cold. I was disoreintated, having been plucked from the community where I had been able to offer an opinion in safety, if I was quiet enough. But this was different. I was alone in the cage. My feathers, wherever they had come from, were itching. Was that a beak? It was like a dream. The rumbling stopped. Suddenly one side of the cage opened. I wandered out, among the other pre-selected chickens. We were in a larger pen. Yay. Some friends. Squawk!

Then I heard a noise. My chicken instincts kicked in. I clucked, to offer a different perspective. My opinion was not the same as the thing coming out of the cage in front of me, a huge multi-headed beast of many mouths. I squawked again. I still did not agree. I was getting to the equivalent of being "chicken pissed" by now. Squawk!

Suddenly, the beast spotted me. It had 5 mouths, and all responded. Each thought independently as if it had formulated it's own thesis, indeed as if it had studied for a lifetime, and responded with its own remarks, ranging from reasonable to just plain venomous. The chicken in me was stubborn. The other chickens around me kept quiet, survival reigning over squawking. Who would want to respond to the ravings of such a mad beast that was hurling insults and deliberately ignoring my key points? I tried to close my beak, but the impulse was unstoppable.

Squawk!

Suddenly a great pain, as if I had been bitten by a large mouth, the beast had me. I flapped my chicken wings, to no avail. There was a crunching noise. Then blackness as I opened my eyes and shook myself out of it.

I started coming out of it, was I concussed or drugged, I didn't know. The horror dawned as I realized my place and I looked down at the broom duct taped to my hand. They had used my last roll. One of them was coming, the green ones. I swept faster, not making eye contact. Then I allowed myself a small smile.

I, the chicken me, had been bitten first. Others had been in easy reach, their new orange feathers still glistening. I had looked tastier than the others, easier to pick on.

Then the smile became a grin. I was the perfect chicken. I knew my place in things. I was content. I lay on the floor of the chamber, waiting for the green ones to beat us all again. I mumbled something as I was whacked hard, some thing like, "Please, not the chickens again..."