The team arrived at the next door in their circuit through the workshop. Noninja checked it for traps, then cautiously opened it and stepped inside.

They found themselves in a simply-appointed kitchen with a counter, a series of cabinets, a sink, and a combination oven/stove. Various utensils, pots, and pans covered the counter, some hanging from the ceiling.

“Excellent!” Miles cheered, clapping his hands once. “Finally, some lunch! Who feels like chicken?”

“Damn it, Miles,” Noninja groused, “focus on the mission!”

“Aw, c’mon!” Miles complained. “I’ll show you how it’s done! Just like dear old meemaw used to make!”

“Guys?” Lorarona warbled. “Something’s wrong. We need to get out of here.”

“Forget it!” Miles countered. “You will not disrespect my grandma! So first, break the chicken’s neck, then tear off all its feathers. Next, pound on it with your fists until all the bones are dislocated and broken.” He put his finger to his nose and winked. “The leaking marrow is what makes it extra tasty!”

A large pot fell from the ceiling and struck the counter, making a loud gong sound, then tumbled onto the floor and clattered as it rolled around.

Miles grinned widely as he chased down the runaway. “Perfect! The chicken’ll fit in here! Wonder where they hide the lids.”

“I’ll help you look.” Clancy began digging through the cabinets under the counter.

“Hey!” Lorarona shouted. “Don’t you feel that? It’s not safe here!”

“What’s your problem?” Miles shot back. “Pots fall off the ceiling all the time! It’s perfectly normal! They need to express themselves too!”

The utensils on the counter started to rustle. Then they began to shake more violently. Suddenly, they lifted off the surface and flew around the room, as if caught up in a tiny tornado.

“What the devil is that?” Clancy screamed.

A ghostly clucking sound echoed throughout the small kitchen.

“Ye Gods!” Lorarona shrieked.

All eyes were on her.

“It’s a…”

Terror spread across her face.

“…poultrygeist!”

The team found themselves pelted by kitchen implements. Although there were knives among them, they tumbled clumsily, impacting only with blunt force. Lorarona twiddled her fingers; white light radiated as an expanding cloud and splattered upon the walls; as it did, a pained cluck erupted, and some of the improvised missiles tumbled to the floor, their moment of freedom abruptly halted.

A ghostly, skeletal chicken appeared in the middle of the tornado, its eyes glowing a sepulchral shade of red, its face somehow twisted into a malevolent snarl. Lorarona fled in terror; Noninja and Clancy followed quickly. Miles remained to bat utensils out of the air, but finally ran out the door and slammed it behind him.

He found Noninja and Clancy looking worried, and Lorarona slumped against the wall, hyperventilating.

Miles turned to look at the kitchen door, irritated. “We need a plan, then we’re going back in there! No more getting bullied by chickens!”

“Go back in there?!” she screamed. “You must be out of your cluckin’ mind!”

She fought to catch her breath. “I only had two ‘cure light wounds’ spells prepared, and I just wasted my last one on that thing. Clancy? Got anything that’ll help?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think to prepare ‘disrupt undead’. None of my attack spells will work on it.”

“What about our ‘cure light wounds’ potions?” Miles suggested.

Lorarona glared at him. “How are we going to get it to drink something? The damn thing’s not even solid!”

“Sorry,” Miles shrugged. “Just trying to help.” He looked wistful for a moment. “At least we figured out what scared Tintso to death.”

“Lucky us,” Lorarona deadpanned.

“Now wait,” Clancy interrupted. “A poltergeist…in this case, poultrygeist…always has a reason to exist. Whatever prevents it from resting in peace, we need to figure it out and set things right.”

“Hmmm, let’s see,” Miles intoned, his face a mockery of thoughtfulness. “A chicken…in a kitchen…and angry.” His flashed a goofy smile. “Gee, what could its trauma be?”

They all gave him nonplussed looks. “Fine,” Clancy finally spoke up. “Back to the coop?”

Without another word, they trudged down the hallway to their destination, closing the door behind them. They found the chickens continuing to mill aimlessly. “So what do we do?” grumbled Noninja. “Talk to them about their feelings?”

They all felt a chill suddenly descend on the room; the light seemed to dim. Faint strains of a ghostly clucking sound flowed through the area; the chickens suddenly bolted upright, then marched to the coop’s door and began pushing against it.

The team watched this for a few seconds. “Should we let them out?”

“Not me,” Miles groused. “They already attacked me once.”

“Sure,” Clancy replied, unlatching the door. “But then what?”

The chickens marched purposefully toward the door and began pecking at it. One turned towards Miles and glared at him; in an instant, all its feathers raised, and it flapped its wings. He took a step back and eyed the chicken nervously.

“Oh, for the love of…” Lorarona growled, opening the door. The chickens immediately left the room; she followed.

“Did I just get punked by a chicken?” Miles seethed.

Noninja smirked as he left the room. “Only because you let it.” Clancy merely shrugged as he followed. Miles moped as he moved to leave.

The chickens had turned a sharp corner and headed to one of the fire exits, and now waited in front of it. “Seems like they know what they want,” Lorarona laughed.

“They’re not really needed here anymore,” Clancy pointed out. “Mannequins don’t eat eggs.”

Lorarona reached the fire exit and pushed on the latch bar. “Go ahead, little ladies,” she cooed. “Be free!”

They all stood outside the workshop, holding the door open, watching the chickens mill near the street. “What now?” Miles asked.

Another chill overtook them; the chickens bolted up straight, and looked around intently. They heard a soft, ghostly clucking sound, one tinged with relief. Suddenly, the chickens started running down the street, flapping their wings, and took off flying, and were soon out of sight.

Lorarona’s face bore a satisfied smirk. “Willing to bet the kitchen isn’t haunted anymore?” The others exchanged weary glances, then ambled back into the building.

“I haven’t found anything,” Clancy moaned as he finished searching the last kitchen cabinet. The others concurred.

“So we defeat a poultrygeist,” Miles complained, “and we don’t even get a reward?”

“Maybe the chickens left us some eggs,” suggested Noninja. “Solid nutrition!”

“Somehow, I was hoping for more than that,” Miles groaned.

“Well, think of it this way,” Lorarona trilled. “Today, you made three chickens very happy.”

Miles glared at her. “I’m so glad I got out of bed this morning.”