The scenery changed in a dazzling miasma of poorly controlled spotlights to behold a ship floating in the ocean, aboard which the long eared man woman was carried.

“This is just preposterous,” chortled Broderica. “A ship floating in the water? Who in the cluck dreamed that up?”

AHAHAHHH

“Say, now that you mention it, I have a question. Why did the ladder to this ship go up in the air like a normal ship when it’s really some sort of bizarre aquatic boat?”

“Oh cluck off you two it’s a sky ocean! Duhhh! I mean haven’t either over you read the book this was based off of?”

AHAHAHAHAHHHAAAAA

Biscuit Pisser almost jumped out of her panties. “There’s a book?”

Krumbumbum accidentally forgot to cover herself as she responded with passion. “Of course there is! Well really it’s a translation of fifty thousand chiseled stone tablets seeing as this is an old story and all but essentially yes.”

OHHHHHAHAHAHAAAA

“Is it any hood?”

“Well there’s a lot more to it than the play.”

“I could’ve guessed that.”

AHAHAHAHHAHAAAHHH

“I mean it’s just a lot. Some of it just seems to meander around meaningless minutiae, if I’m being perfectly honest. Almost like the story’s constantly focusing on everything except what it probably ought to be focusing on, or at least on what you want it to be focusing on while you’re reading it. Like, to an irritating degree.”

“I could barely follow that skytrain of thought.”

AAHAHHHHAAAAHHHHOOHHHHAHHH

“Okay, so imagine there’s something really interesting going on in the background that you want to pay attention to when you read it. Something that just draws you in and gets a big emotional response.”

AHAHHAAAA

AWWWWW

OHHHHH

HAHAHAAAA

Biscuit Pisser snapped. “Like an awards ceremony or something!”

GAAAAASP

“…Yes, Biscuit Pisser. Like an awards ceremony.”

AHAHHAHAAAAHHHH

“But so you’re reading the book this play is based on and instead of hearing about all the intricate details of this highly engaging…awards ceremony…the story instead chronicles nearly every conversation the characters in the audience are having with each other, so much so that there’s no space to do more than take a slight glance at the stage of the awards ceremony and all its amazingly fartwarming speeches that you so badly want to soak in because you’re too busy seeing all the different ways people can fuss at eachother over nothing.”

OOOOHHHHHHHHHH

“Would you two shut the cluck up already?! I swear you just talk to talk!”

“Like you don’t just talk to talk! You’re jealous of my mustache anyways Broderica maybe that’s why you’re being so mean.”

AAHHHAHAHAHAAHHHAAA

“Jealous of your mustache? You’re a clucking woman! I’m a clucking woman! That’s absurd why would I want a mustache as a woman?!”

“I don’t know you’re the one who’s jealous of it!”

“SHUT THE CLUCK UP AND LET ME WATCH THE COCKHAMNED SHOW ALREADY YOU UNBEARABLE PUNTS!”

GAAAAAAAAASP

This time the audience was reacting to Krumbumbum.

Krumbumbum noticed she was standing out of her seat, and her top had fallen to her hips, once again exposing her nips.

“E’ey n’awuh l’laydey!” warbled a garbled windless forestian voice. “S’stawup sh’showin’ awf y’er t’ah’tahs n’ s’siddawn ’s w’e ‘kin w’atch th’ sh’owe!”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT THE CLUCK TO DO YOU CLUCKING CUSTARD CRUSTACEAN!”

Another twangy voice piped up. “L’ladies, ‘ah th’aynk y’oowuh ‘d b’ettaher b’be h’headn’ a’awta ‘ere.”

“CLUCK OFF! ALL I’VE WANTED TO DO ALL NIGHT IS WATCH THIS CLUCKING SHOW AND THESE TWO VITCHES WON’T STOP BLATHERING ABOUT NOTHING!”

“B’utah m’miyus—

“Um Krumbumbum not to interrupt but we were talking about something not about nothing and if you forget you talked for quite a considerable amount of time about—”

“AIEEEEEEE!!!” Krumbumbum screeched, leaping like a rabid leopard on top of Biscuit Pisser, straddling her. Soon, they were both backhand slapping eachother weakly and moaning.

“Wow, you two call that a catfight? You couldn’t get two copper in the strip with that act.”

“It’s not an act woman!” hissed Krumbumbum, pausing to yank out another slap of Biscuit Pisser’s face and let out a soft moan as she herself was slapped. “I’m gonna kill this vitch!”

“Yes, I see you two are out for blood,” chuckled Broderica. “Say, could you cast me a liquor spell? I’m starting to sober up.”

“One minute—oooh—Broderica one minute just—uhhhh—just give me—ooh!—just a—oh—a minu—ahhh—just one minute almost—mmmaahh—okay okay almost—uhhh!”

“You’re clucking disgrossting. Say, why are there two sets of water skyrates on the stage?”

There were two sets of water skyrates on the stage aboard the fake water skyrate ship. They were currently fighting with eachother over custody of the same long eared woman pretending to be a man that Broderica was so fond of. In front of the stage dangled a long, rope ladder with wooden rungs. This one didn’t just end with a catwalk leading to the wings. Instead, it came from the large skyrate ship hovering overhead.

“Um, guys?” Broderica burped in fear. “Do you see what I see?”

Biscuit Pisser perked up. “Oh, is it—ooh—is it—aahh—is it really early enough in the—ohh—year to be—ahhhhh—to be singing solstice songs?”

“No you cockhamned baboon! Look the cluck up! There’s clucking skyrates!”

“They’re not skyrates Broderica—ahhh—they’re—oh!—they’re water skyrates remember—ahhahh!”

“Not there you rabid clucking amoeba! Look up! In the actual sky!”

Krumbumbum and Biscuit Pisser looked up in the actual sky to see the long, skybarnacle encrusted bottom of a skyrate ship hovering high in the air.

EEEEEEK

they screamed in unison.

“Say…that rather phallic skybarnacle formation…the one on the far east side of the bottom of the ship…” Broderica squinted, “It looks familiar…too familiar!”

Broderica bubbled with fermenting rage, grasping around for a projectile to throw at the vile looming vessel. Eventually she clasped some cold, hardened droppings from the forest floor and hurled them high in the air. They soon dissapointingly arced downwards and smacked a windless theater light tech in the head, nearly knocking them out and causing them to drop the heavy light they held in the far right treetops.

KSSKSKSKKSKSKKKSSSHHHH

The light crashed to the floor of the stage, immediately setting fire to some scattered streamers. As there was no wind in their way, the flames grew with a startling veracity and in a couple of lamb’s blinks the entire stage and a hood bit of the trees behind it were burning a in searing, brilliant swirl of orange and yellows.

“H’hawuhleyuh Sh’sheeeyawwwt!”

“You can say that again.”

“H’haaaawwwullleeyyyuhhhh Sh’shhheeaaaayyyyaaaaaaaauuttt!!”

“You can say that a third ti—oooh!”

“What the cluck is wrong with you Biscuit Pisser?” hissed Krumbumbum as she shook her hand from the limp wristed smack she had used to silence Biscuit Pisser, “There is no reason to say that a third time and you know it!”

“H’h’h’h’h’h’haaaaaaaawwwwwwwwuuuuullllleeeeiiiiiaaaaaa—”

The windless forestian dropped to the ground like a mannequin, passed out from lack of oxygen. The women noticed his right arm was frozen upward, his hand pointing to the sky. They followed it to the real life rope ladder, up which two skyrates were carrying the bound and gagged woman who had previously been wearing false ears and previous to that had captured Broderica’s attention with her polarizing appearance.

“The bass turds! First my ASS and now the nameless woman I’m questionably infatuated with! I’ll kill them!”

“Broderica it’s honestly a wonder they haven’t died already from all the flames,” Krumbumbum chuckled, watching as trees tumbled, set pieces crumbled and people cried and ran in circles as they burned alive. “I mean seriously what a mess!”

Biscuit Pisser sniffed in the air. “Say, does anything smell like fried chicken to you guys?”

“Fried chicken smells like fried chicken!” Broderica spat brazenly.

“No no no I mean do you smell the smell of fried chicken right now like do you smell fried chicken I think I smell fried chicken. Smells pretty hood too. Mmmm. Fried chicken. Why I remember the days when—”

“Fried chicken?!” cried Krumbumbum, once again losing hold of her loose straps and flashing her chest at everyone.

“You really ought to get a new dress.”

“You really ought to cluck off! Speaking of which—where was I—fried chicken?!” She flashed everyone again. “The chicken!!”

“Oh shit hood point,” nodded Biscuit Pisser, remembering the giant chicken atop which they had flown into the Windless Forests.

“Who cares about a hamned chicken?!” shrieked Broderica, “I must AVENGE my ASS!! And WOO that LUSTY LADY they’ve so conveniently KIDNAPPED!”

“You can’t get up there Broderica the ladder’s on fire just give it up and come save the chicken with us!”

“Don’t you mean eat the chicken, Krumbumbum?”

“No I do not mean eat the chicken Biscuit Pisser you clucking imbecile!”

OWWW OW OWW

“Motherclucker! Son of a vitch!”

“What are you whining about now Broderica?”

Broderica jumped up and down in pain, shaking her hands erratically. “I tried to climb up the ladder as was my charge and my palms got scorched!”

“Broderica you clucking idiot I told you not to.”

“Yea really Shitface really.”

The stood there for a moment, staring at eachother while everyone around them cried in agony as the flames spread with a quickening hunger.

“Um, Krumbumbum,” Broderica grumbled, “Do you have any spells that might heal my hands?”

Krumbumbum said she indeed had a spell, and a familiar deep voice boomed through the air, so forecfully so that it pushed the fire further into the woods as a large glass handle of vodka apparated in her grasp. Krumbumbum then sloshed the vodka all over Broderica’s hands.

AIIIEEEEEEEK AAAIEE AIEEE

“K-k-krumbumbum you absolute vitch what in the cluck what the motherclucking cluck is wrong with you cluck that hurts!”

“Don’t complain I was just..disinfecting them for you.”

“I meant like heal them you vitch heal them can’t you heal things with your with your clucking magic spells?!”

“I could but the book with all my healing spells, well, all my healing spells except my self healing spells of course because I have those memorized, but the book with all my spells for healing other people just so happened to burn up, along with my only home and all my other possessions.”

“Oh my cock oh my clucking cock Krumbumbum what is clucking wrong with you who gives a flying cluck about your stupid home and books and posessions! I lived in a clucking septic tank you cockhamned ignoramous and I’ll have you know—”

“Biscuit Pisser did you say ‘flying cluck’?” Krumbumbum asked, looking at her companions.

Suddenly, their eyes all locked in a knowing, dilating glance.

“THE CHICKEN!” the cried in unison, scrambling off into the burning woods just as a large burning tree tumbled and landed with a

SMACKKKKKK

right where they had all been standing.