The Bride of Clucky

Lights

“Abs, can I have my phone back now?”

Bennie Powell stretched an arm over the arm of the reclined theater seat where wife, Abby Preston, sat staring ahead. Like all of the other patrons in the auditorium, Abby watched the credits roll.

In response to Bennie’s request, Abby shook her head, never taking her eyes from the big screen in front of them. “Movie’s not over yet. There’s supposed to be a scene after this.”

“The credits are playing. It’s over.”

“Credits are part of the movie. Relax. This is for your own good.”

Bennie rolled her eyes. “Fine.” If social media was wrong—and Bennie hoped it was—there’d be no extra scene to cap the movie about turkeys taking over the earth, the lights would come back on, and the two of them could head back to their Center City studio apartment and enjoy the blessed silence before the chaos of their in-laws occurred on Thanksgiving Day tomorrow. Bennie shuddered at the thought. Neither the Powells nor the Prestons were a bunch for the faint of heart.

“When are you getting married? When are you gonna give us grandchildren?”

“When we’re ready.”

“When are you going to be ready? We’re not going to live forever, you know!”

Sliding back in her seat, Bennie decided to get comfortable and wait. Shaking loose thoughts of work at the firm and family soon-to-come, it was decided.

Abby was right. Settle in and take the relaxation where it came.

Abby glanced at Bennie. “Oh look, you’re calming down.” She smiled and turned back toward the screen. “And has it killed you?”

Bennie chuckled. “Don’t you ever get tired of being sarcastic?”

“It’s my lifeblood. Along with being right. Now, hush.”

Lacing fingers with Abby, Bennie turned toward the theater’s screen. As the credits rolled by, the busy day of ingredient shopping and court cases hit hard.

Through heavy eyelids, white words on the black screen began to blur.

Was it Bennie’s imagination or was there a turkey on the screen? Probably part of the whole theme of the movie they’d just watched, Bennie guessed, drifting further and further into sleep. But then why did it seem to be watching them?

Camera

“Agent Clucky, you’ve been spotted!”

As Clucky used his binoculars to spy the crowd at the theater, his captain’s voice blared through the earphone surgically lodged in the small hole behind his eye that functioned as an all-too-powerful ear.

“Crap, captain! Why do I need to be back here behind the screen? You see me. We put a camera back here a week ago before the release of The Waddler’s Revenge.” he grunted, careful not to scream or he’d give away his position to the humans. “Why did we need these earphones anyway? You know we can hear up to a mile away, right?”

“No backtalk, subordinate!” Again, the captain’s voice screamed. “What do you see?”

From here? I see a boss who kissed big-wig tail coverts to get his job, but can’t be bothered to do sh-

“Agent!”

Tightening his beak to keep the thoughts that could have him out of the job from escaping, Clucky clenched one set of claws around the binocular and—as he had been camouflaged by the plot and images of the onscreen, three-hour movie—viewed the crowd. They were waiting for the after-credits scene. Excellent. The social media element of the plan worked like a charm. Now, all they had to do was watch and wait.

The patrons were riveted.

All but one. Clucky focused on the one with short, silver hair next to the red-haired woman. The redhead watched the credits, seeming not to notice Clucky spying from behind it. But the one with the silver hair…their blue eyes narrowed at the film screen as if seeing what was behind it. Seeing him.

“Captain Clucky!”

“I told you, Clucky!” The credits are about to end and the lights will come on. Get out of there or you’ll give us away.”

Clucky waddled out of the projection screen just as the lights in the movie theater turned on. From his vantage point, he watched as disappointed moviegoers—including the redhead and silver-haired pair—rose from their seats and departed.

“What do we do now, Captain?” Clucky asked, steeling himself for the answer.

“Gather the troops and prepare for war,” the captain ordered. “Your bride, Esmeralda, will be returned to us safely or this planet will suffer.”

Action

“For the last time. I’m telling you, babe. I wasn’t just seeing things.” On the trolley on the way home, Bennie tried to explain once again. “There was a turkey behind that screen.”

Behind Bennie, a small chuckle rang out. A teenage boy quickly turned away to watch the passing city outside. “I know what I saw.”

“Oh come on, Bennie. How often have you seen turkeys roaming this part of the city?”

Bennie thought about it. Not often, but still…

“So,” Abby began, leaning over. “Ready for another year of awkward conversation and unmet familial expectations?”

Bennie threw an arm around Abby and pulled her closer. “If you remembered the booze on our shopping list, yeah.”

Abby chuckled. “You’re covered.”

The trolley lurched forward. The blare of sirens and horns followed. Abby, Bennie, and the sparse amount of other patrons did the same with it.

From the window seat, Bennie glanced out to see what was up. “Oh my god. I can’t be seeing this.”

In the street and lined along the tracks of the trolley with military precision were large turkeys. They blocked the traffic, seemingly unaffected by the noise of the horns or the colorful language of the drivers and pedestrians.

One guy—a local shop owner—tried batting the winged intruders away with a literal bat. He regretted it instantly when one turkey gingerly lifted a wing before jerking it forward. The man’s bat thudded to the ground and his body mimicked the motion first hovering then flying through the air with a yell.

Once the man in the air was out of sight, the scene descended into chaos. People screamed, ran, and hid wherever they could as turkeys attacked and destroyed; the scene not unlike the one they’d watched earlier at the theater.

Bennie grabbed Abby’s hand and headed for the nearest exit on the trolley. “Let’s get out of here!”

Abby yanked her arm back. “By getting off the trolley and going toward the killer turkeys? Are you crazy?”

“Attention, humans!”

Abby and Bennie made their way back to the trolley windows to survey the scene. Among the hordes of people running scared, the turkey who’d sent the man with the bat flying straightened to its full height, talons digging into the gravel. Its beak opened. His roar rang clear above the noise. “Where. Is. Esmeralda.?”

Out of the blue, a new voice broke through the mayhem. And, with it, the havoc of the city died as everyone and everything—including the turkeys—were suspended in midair. “Are you frickin’ kidding me, Clucky?”

Even without the confirmation of his captain, Clucky knew that voice well. Esmeralda. She was safe and sound. And pissed. She approached, feathers flared. Her eyes narrowed and he—and only he—dropped to the street with a thud.“What did you tell that captain of yours? Geez, the two of you and this Earth Thanksgiving mania every year.”

Brushing himself off, Clucky stood, his own eyes cast down at the ground. “I didn’t know you were on vacation.”

“It wasn’t a vacation. For goodness sake. Do you ever listen?” She rolled her eyes. “Why do I put anything on the fridge? I said I’d be back later today with what?” she prompted as he thought back to the note on blue paper hanging where she said it was.

“Tequila, Macaroni and Cheese, and Cranberry Sauce,” Clucky finished, saying the words she’d always told him. Her favorites of those three things were on Earth in Philadelphia, she told him every year. How could he forget that?

Esmeralda nodded. “Right. Now, you and your captain clean this mess up, wipe these nice people’s memories, and get back up to the ship. Pronto.”

“Ready, Abby?”

“Ready.”

On Thanksgiving afternoon, they opened their apartment doors to the whirlwind that was the Powells and Prestons. As expected, as the hours passed, they ate, talked, and asked all of the inappropriate and intrusive questions they possibly could.

Then, night fell. Their relatives settled in front of the television in a food coma. Quietly, Abby and Bennie grabbed their jackets and made their way to the roof overlooking the clear city. Once there, the two cuddled together on the chairs, enjoying the breeze and atmosphere.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Just like Abby to look at the bright side of things.

“Yeah, the pack tends to be a lot less vicious when you feed them.”

Abby laughed and Bennie sighed, watching the dark blue night sky. The lights of the city covered much of the stars. All but one. It was gold.

Abby noticed, too. “That’s pretty.”

“And weird.” Bennie’s eyes narrowed at the object. Imperceptibly, it moved then stopped then moved again.

Abby made herself comfortable on Bennie’s lap. “You seeing the turkey on the screen again?” she joked.

Bennie hugged her tight and shook loose of the thought. “I love you, Abs.”

“Love you, too, Ben.”

“Good thing those killer turkeys weren’t around, huh?”

“What?”

“You know.” Abby yawned. “The ones from the movie?”

“Oh, yeah.” Bennie sighed, eyeing the tiny gold figure. Just as it flew away and out of sight. “Sure.”