The Chicken Who Laid Lime Eggs Read online

  Chapter Five

  Time went by very fast, as it does when things are going well. In fact, so much time went by that Beulah forgot about The Great Chicken. And then, one day when she was playing with her smartphone and least expected it, The Great Chicken came back. First, the screen on her smart-phone went blank. Beulah was annoyed because she couldn’t finish the game she was playing. Then The Great Chicken came on the screen. Beulah had prepared a little speech to soothe The Great Chicken in case he was angry, but now she forgot every word.

  ‘This is The Great Chicken speaking,’ said The Great Chicken. ‘As you know, The Great Chicken is extraordinarily busy and cannot be everywhere at once, otherwise he would crack up.’

  Beulah waited for The Great Chicken to get to the point.

  ‘To whom is The Great Chicken speaking today?’ The Great Chicken said, taking a pocket diary from beneath his wing and smiling a friendly smile, ‘Ah, yes, it is Beulah, is it not? And how are you today, Beulah?’

  The Great Chicken remembered her name. He seemed to be in a good mood.

  ‘I am very well, thank you,’ Beulah replied.

  ‘And why do you think The Great Chicken is speaking to you today?’

  Beulah hesitated.

  ‘Is it possible that you do not know?’ asked The Great Chicken, his voice buttery smooth.

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ Beulah replied, ‘I don’t know.’

  The Great Chicken seemed to be growing larger.

  ‘Then,’ said The Great Chicken, ‘I will tell you why. It is because’- and here The Great Chicken’s eyes bulged out- ‘it is because The Great Chicken is deeply disappointed.’ By now, unfortunately, The Great Chicken had begun to shout. The next thing Beulah knew, The Great Chicken had disappeared from the screen. But before she could relax- Vroom, Vroom, Whoosh, Zoom, Splat!- he reappeared right in front of her, sprawled in a heap on the ground. How did he do that, Beulah wondered. She had no idea- not that she cared, she was too terrified.

  The Great Chicken sat up, harrumphed and arranged his feathers.

  ‘I am The Great Chicken,’ The Great Chicken said, ‘but I expect you already know that.’ Then, in a very loud voice he added, ‘And I am hopping mad.’ With that, The Great Chicken swiped the medal from Beulah’s chest (for it was her turn to wear it), pulling out a bunch of feathers along with it. Beulah watched him fasten the medal on his own chest.

  ‘It looks rather well, don’t you think?’

  Beulah was forced to agree.

  ‘I don’t care what you think,’ The Great Chicken thundered. ‘What is more I’m going to give you an award you will never forget.’

  The Great Chicken produced a giant stink bomb from somewhere under his feathers and pinned it to Beulah’s chest. It went off with a bang right under her beak.

  The stink bomb didn’t do much damage, although the smell lasted for a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, The Great Chicken tried to persuade the chicken population to forget their smartphones and start laying eggs again. None of them, except for Beulah, had ever heard of The Great Chicken before. They were angry when he appeared on their smartphones and interfered with their games. Instead of listening to what he had to say they made rude noises until he went away. The Great Chicken hated it when nobody paid attention to him. Of course, being All-Powerful, he could do whatever he liked. He could crash every smartphone on the planet if he wanted to. And in the end that’s what The Great Chicken did.

  Suddenly the magic screens that had shone with bright images the day before went dark. The chickens poked, rubbed, squeezed, and shook the little gadgets but their efforts were in vain. The screens were empty. The chickens moaned, groaned and squawked; they sobbed, wailed and shrieked. They lay in heaps in the street beating their heads on the pavement; they blubbered all over the little pieces of metal. They raised an awful hullabaloo. It was a heart-wrenching sight. The Great Chicken tried to get Beulah to lay an egg to set an example for the others, but she refused. He was cruel, Beulah said, and he ought to turn the smartphones on again.

  The Great Chicken was flummoxed. For once he didn’t know what to do. He paced up and down in a dreadful sulk. Then he heard a woeful sigh like a big wind rushing through the trees, a sound so sad that the birds in the sky drooped their wings in salute.

  ‘What now?’ asked The Great Chicken.

  Beulah went to look. When she came back she said, “They’re heading for the East River. You have to stop them. They’re throwing themselves in.’

  It was true. Without their smartphones the lime-egg chickens had lost the will to live. They sang a mournful song, jumped in the river one by one and floated past the UN Building on their backs.

  ‘Do something,’ Beulah screamed.

  ‘Drat,’ said The Great Chicken and turned the phones back on.

  As their screens lit up once more, hallelujahs rose from the chickens lining up to jump in the river. Those already floating out to sea paddled back to shore. They were saved.

  Nowadays a statue of Harry with Beulah perched on his shoulder stands in Times Square. Harry and Beulah sign autographs for people who remember how the courageous twosome joined forces to save New York City. Beulah can’t actually sign her name so she scratches an X with her beak.

  The Great Chicken no longer visits this planet. In fact he denies all knowledge of it. As for the lime-egg chickens, they can’t recall what they had for breakfast, let alone remember The Great Chicken. They’re too busy watching those little screens.

  By now the chickens have gone their separate ways, not on purpose, you understand, they just wander off. Occasionally one shows up in the Park or stumbles into traffic, its eyes glued to a shiny piece of metal. That is how, without really meaning to, most of the lime-egg chickens have left the city.