My Friend, Cluckster

Benny dropped his backpack to the ground and glanced around before opening the latch on the small coop in his backyard. He’d made the whole thing himself out of scrap wood and some chicken wire.

He pulled the apple slices he’d saved from his breakfast out of his pant pocket and dropped them into the cage.

“Here you go Cluckster,” he said.

The bird’s red comb bobbed as he pecked greedily at the morsels of food, but didn’t look at Benny. Benny studied the creature. He’d hoped his feathers would have filled in a bit more by now, but his scaly underbelly was still evident.

Peter had called it the ugliest chicken he’d even seen. Margie had said it looked like a mutant.  

Benny had shrugged. Peter had a pet hamster that made his room smell like poo, and Margie’s goldfish swam around in a small bowl. He thought it looked more like a decoration than a pet.

The trio had been walking along the river when they’d seen the bird. He was limping, and Benny felt sorry for him. Benny had scooped the bird up, and it hadn’t resisted. The friends had looked around for some sort of nest, but couldn’t find one.

Peter and Margie didn’t think he’d be able to keep it as a pet, but Benny had proved them wrong.

His dad had been away for the week, and his mother was so busy with the new baby she hardly paid attention to him. He’d built Cluckster his coop, and when his father returned, he’d managed to convince him.

“It looks like a Link mutant,” his mother had protested.

“Let the boy have his fun,” his father had argued.

Cluckster mostly ate vegetable scraps, but he seemed happy with them. His father had purchased a big bag of bird seed, and Benny often threw a handful of it into the coop. Cluckster didn’t like the seed as much as he liked food scraps though.

It had been two weeks now, and Cluckster seemed happy. He was no longer limping, at least.

Benny watched as Cluckster pecked away at the apple slices.

He enjoyed his time with his new pet. Peter had asked Margie to be his girlfriend recently and now the two of them spent a lot of time together without Benny. Benny thought they were too young to be in relationships. They were only twelve. What he thought didn’t seem to matter though.

At least he had Cluckster to keep him company.

Benny reached into the coop and ran a finger gently down the bird’s back as he’d done so many times before. He wasn’t certain if he did it to soothe himself, or his feathered friend, but they both seemed to enjoy it.

Cluckster stopped eating and stood still while Benny stroked his back.

Then, without any warning, Cluckster began to crow. It was an unfamiliar sound – guttural and bestial. Benny winced as the sound assaulted his ears. He withdrew his hand from the coop so quickly, he fell back onto his behind. He’d never heard the noise before.

“Crock-a-crock-a!”

Cluckster did it again, louder this time and Benny scrambled back from the cage.

“Crock-a-crock-a!”

Benny scuttled back along the grass, which was still damp with morning dew. It took him a second to register the figure that had jumped the fence.

“What the hell is that?” asked Chase.

Benny felt a pit in his stomach. Chase was always stealing his lunch money, knocking the books out of his hands, or hitting him with spit balls. It had gotten worse since Peter and Margie had stopped spending as much time with him. Benny had thought he was safe from the bully at home.

“Crock-a-crock-a!” Cluckster was getting louder and Benny covered his ears.

“I asked what the hell that thing is, loser,” Chase pointed. He strode toward Benny and the coop. “Is it your little pet?” he taunted. “Maybe I’ll eat it for dinner.”

Before Benny could do anything, Cluckster flew out of the coop, straight at Chase’s head.

“Crock-a-crock-a!” screamed the bird.

Benny, who still had his hands over his ears, used his feet to push himself away from Chase. He scooted along the ground, and his pants were damp from the dew. Benny was against the house now, and he frantically looked around for an exit.

Chase looked toward the small coop and Benny saw his eyes widen as Cluckster flew out. With a beating of wings the bird took off.

Up and up the bird rose before he descended on Chase in a cacophony of crows.

“Crock-a-crock-a!”

Benny closed his eyes.

He heard Chase scream, then the sound of fast footfalls. The beating of wings.

“Crock-a-crock-a!”

Benny thought he heard feet scrambling over the fence. Chase was yelling, and Cluckster was flapping his wings, still crowing.  

“Crock-a-crock-a!”

The noise got further away, then the yelling and crowing stopped all together.

Benny thought he could still hear Cluckster’s wings beating.

He slowly opened his eyes.

Cluckster flapped back over the fence and landed in front of Benny.

Benny looked down at his strange bird and gently reached a finger out.

Cluckster moved, pushing his scaley body against the boy’s finger. Then he shook his few feathers gently and hopped to the coop, and then inside of it, where he resumed pecking at his apple slices. His red comb bobbed to and fro.

When Benny got to school, he found Chase was absent.

The next day an assembly was called. Margie held Peter’s hand. The administration and teachers wanted to offer condolences to the students. Chase, it seemed, had been found, scared to death in a backyard a couple lots over from Benny’s. That wasn’t what they called it of course. It was simply another mysterious death in Olympic Vista. Counsellors were available if anyone needed someone to talk to.

Benny skipped lunch and used the money his parents had given him to purchase a bag of high-quality chicken scratch from the pet store on his way home. He threw a handful into the coop and smiled as Cluckster pecked away, his red comb bobbing to and fro.