Distress Signal Time

Last time, we left Ben tangled in the vines with Monty’s grin blocking out the rest of the forest and our intrepid hero ran flew off into the tree tops, looking for safety.

High in the treetops, the cockatrice warbled.  It watched as Monty leaned toward Ben.  It nestled within the branches, unafraid of wizards and magic, and closed its eyes.  The wind rustled the leaves on the branches.  The cockatrice shifted position to allow the sun to better warm its back.

Ben gurgled.

Monty laughed.

The cockatrice opened one, yellow eye.  Its beak clacked.  It watched Ben and waited.  Why doesn’t the foolish human fight back?

Ben’s red face turned purple, then turned blue.  His eyes rolled back into his head.  His body sagged against the vines.

The cockatrice screeched.  It leapt from the tree branches and folded its wings against its back.  The talons on its feet raked the back on Monty’s head.

The old man screamed and slapped a hand against his head, missing the cockatrice.  “Damn foolish creature, I knew you’d return.”

The cockatrice glared at Monty.

Monty stiffened like a stature, momentarily.  He shuddered, winked, and pointed to his eyes.  “Contacts, remember.”

The cockatrice pecked his toes with its sharp beak.

Monty hobbled backward, clutching his foot.

The cockatrice slammed into Monty’s stomach.

The old man fell over.

The cockatrice clawed its way to his face and leaned over his eyes.  It pecked at his wrinkled cheeks, closer and closer to his eyes.

“All right!”  Monty’s hands flailed at the cockatrice.

The cockatrice flapped its wings and hovered above him.

Ben gasped.

The cockatrice slashed Monty’s forehead with its clawed feet.

Monty clutched his face, blood smeared on his fingers, and knelt on the ground.

Ben wriggled free of the vines.  He dropped to the leaf-strewn ground, panting.  “Why?”

The cockatrice waddled over to its best friend and nuzzled his cheek with its head.  It crooned softly.

“All part of the plan.”  Monty loomed over them and smirked.

A bag engulfed Ben and his cockatrice.

“Idiots,” Monty said.

“Where to, sir?” the goblin said.

So, what do you think will happen?  What do you want to happen?  Was it too short?  Too long?  Too unfunny?

Yep, that’s right.  I’m soliciting comments and suggestions.  I may even use them.  No matter how wacky, zany, nerdy, or weird.  No matter how serious, fanciful, or sci-fi.  It’s a choose your own adventure.  You choose what happens next.

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About bkreuch

I like to read, I like to write, and I like to make people laugh.
This entry was posted in Ben's Hen, Humor, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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