I’m a Chicken, Get Me Out of Here!

by Anna Wilson

  Napoleon crowed sharply, ‘Cock-a-doodle-doooo shut up, you lot!’ he shouted.

  The noise abated slightly, dropping to a low murmur of gossipy chit-chat, so that Titch could now hear Napoleon saying, ‘Why on earth would you want to escape? Where would you go? What would you do?’

  And so Titch found herself filling Napoleon in on the recent events in her life.

  ‘So you can imagine my distress when I was thrown in with a guinea pig!’ she scoffed, as she finished the story.

  ‘A pig you say?’ the cockerel interrupted. ‘Well, you could have done worse. Pigs are a wonderful deterrent to foxes, you see—’

  ‘No! Not a pig – a GUINEA pig,’ said Titch crossly. ‘Oh, never mind. Let’s just say that I do not appreciate sharing my home with a fussy busybody. Nor do I appreciate being manhandled by a beastly child who seems to think animals are there to be tortured and frightened just for her pleasure!’

  And she went on to describe what had happened to Ned and Brian and how she was terrified she would be next. ‘If I had wanted to escape before arriving at that madhouse, I certainly am desperate to escape now! In any case, there is no chance of my doing anything marvellous if I stay there,’ she finished.

  ‘I think you are being rather selfish, if you don’t mind my saying,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Actually I do mind you saying!’ Titch said indignantly. ‘I haven’t even met you properly. How dare you—’

  ‘Just listen,’ said the cockerel. ‘You say you want to do “something marvellous”?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Titch.

  ‘Has it not occurred to you that you could achieve that simply by going back to the place you call a madhouse?’

  Titch paused. ‘I – I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Think about it,’ said the cockerel. ‘Those other animals clearly need a superior brain to help them out of their predicament. You may not have the looks –’ he coughed – ‘but you are clearly no birdbrain if you have managed to escape from a chicken run.’

  Titch thought carefully for a minute and then said, ‘Though it pains me to say it, I think you might be right, Napoleon. I should help my friends.’ For, she realized, that is what the other animals could be, if only she let them. ‘They have suffered for too long because of that nasty girl. If I really wanted to do something marvellous, I could do it for my friends.’

  They were interrupted at that moment by the deep voice of the man in the flat cap who was calling for silence.

  ‘And it is my great pleasure to announce the winner of the bantam class,’ he said, above the noise of the gossiping poultry. ‘This year’s prize goes to the beautiful, characterful Lavender Pekin, shown by Wilfred Peasbody.’

  There was a roar of applause from the crowd and a surge of clucking and crowing of disgust from the other cages.

  ‘Well, it looks as though someone thinks you have beauty as well as brains,’ sniffed Napoleon. From the change in his tone of voice, his feathers had quite clearly been ruffled. ‘Good luck to you, is all I can say. Although I can’t see what use a little hen like you is going to be against a nasty human child intent on evil. If I were you—’

  ‘Yes, but you’re not, are you?’ said Titch, puffing out her chest with pride. ‘I am me. And I am—!’

  ‘Titchy!’ cried Wilf, running over with a huge pink rosette with ‘1st Prize’ written on it. ‘This is for you. Well done, you marvellous hen! I love you,’ he said. And he stuck the rosette on the cat box, before gently lifting her back in.

  And this time, she did not struggle. In fact, she positively snuggled into Wilf’s arms, enjoying the fuss he was making.

  ‘You’re the best hen in the world!’ Wilf said.

  If he could have understood the soft chirruping that came in reply, he would have heard Titch say, ‘And you are the best boy in the world. I cannot believe that you really are related to that girl. The more I think about it, the more I think that I owe it to you as much as to Ned or Brian to teach her a lesson. Yes, this is my chance to do something really marvellous, and no one, not even that girl, is going to get in my way.’

  Meena had been busy while Wilf was out. She was very, very angry. She was angry with Mum for shoving her out in the garden.

  ‘Like I am a stupid dog, like stupid Ringo,’ she muttered, giving the poor pooch a kick as she passed him.

  She was also angry with Wilf because he was having a special outing with Grandma.

  ‘And Meena is not allowed to go!’ She scowled.

  She was angry with Grandma as well for being on Wilf’s side about Titch. And she was very angry indeed with Grandma about the jelly.

  ‘Meena HATES jelly,’ she went on as she stomped across the garden. ‘Sticky, horrible, slimy stuff, slithering everywhere. Like slugs!’

  The world was against her, she decided. And if that was the case then she was against the world.

  ‘Meena is going to do something really, really bad,’ she told herself, her eyes glinting. She rubbed her hands together as she thought of what she could do to Brian.

  But as she approached his hutch she saw that the door was open.

  ‘Funny . . .’ she said. ‘Did Wilfie leave it open? Oh, well, stupid Wilfie will lose his ickle lickle guinea pig. Serves him right.’

  Then she stopped. There was something sniffing around the hutch. At first she thought it was Brian, roaming free. But then she saw that the creature was bigger than Brian and it had a tail. It was more the size of Ned, although its tail was bushier and had an interesting splash of white at the end of it.

  ‘Oh!’ breathed Meena. ‘A fox! A baby fox.’

  She crept round the side of a shrub so that she could watch it. It was so cute, playing with a pile of autumn leaves, dancing around them and pouncing on them when they moved in the breeze.

  ‘Meena likes the baby fox,’ she said to herself. ‘Meena wants it.’

  She crept up behind it. It didn’t hear a thing. It was too busy playing.

  Meena took off her jumper and in one quick motion threw it over the unsuspecting fox cub.

  There was a muffled yelp, and then silence. Meena had bundled the cub into a ball in her jumper and was running back to the house with it.

  ‘Meena is going to have some fun now,’ she said, laughing as she ran.

  Ned had watched the whole thing from up a tree. He had been on his way to tell Brian what he had witnessed in the kitchen, which was why the hutch was open, but had scarpered when he saw Meena making a beeline for the fox cub.

  He waited until it was safe, and then jumped down and slipped into Brian’s hutch.

  ‘Brian!’ he hissed. ‘It’s OK, she’s gone. You can come out.’

  ‘Oh, my rosettes and whiskers! Oh, my claws and paws! Oh, my—’ cried the poor guinea pig.

  ‘As I said, she’s gone. Oh, for pity’s sake, calm down, can’t you?’ said the cat. ‘We’ll have no chance of getting our own back on her if you cannot pull yourself together.’

  ‘But you saw what she just did to that fox cub!’ Brian gibbered. ‘I mean, not that I care. I can’t abide foxes, as you know. But still! I wouldn’t wish the Terror on my own worst enemy. And the fox is my own worst enemy. Apart from the Terror,’ Brian added, getting in a muddle. ‘She is my own worst enemy too—’

  ‘Be quiet!’ Ned hissed, arching his back.

  ‘Eek!’ said Brian, and backed himself into a corner.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Ned. ‘We must not allow ourselves to become sidetracked. The Terror is clearly more of an evil genius than we thought. If she can go as far as kidnapping a fox cub, she must be stronger and cleverer than any human I have ever come across.’

  ‘Either that or mad,’ said Brian crossly. He did not take kindly to being told off by the cat.

  ‘Quite,’ said Ned. ‘How does she think she can get away with it? She can hardly hide the creature in the house.’

  ‘And what will she do when the fox cub’s parents come looking for it?’ said
Brian. ‘Which they most assuredly will.’

  ‘Will they, though?’ mused Ned. ‘I mean, not that I want to hurt your feelings, but can we honestly say that our parents came looking for us when we were taken to live in this hellhole?’

  Brian became quite sniffy at this. ‘Of course my parents would have come looking for me!’ he squealed. ‘But they would have found it impossible, seeing as they are in Peru on the other side of the world and, being guinea pigs, they have no means of crossing the ocean of their own accord! I’m sure the foxes will do anything in their power to get their cub back.’

  ‘All this debate is rather by the by if you ask me,’ Ned cut in hastily. ‘The fact remains that there is now a fox cub hidden somewhere in the house. Have you considered what will happen when the creature grows? He will become as bloodthirsty as his mother and father, and that, my friend, is not good news for you.’

  ‘What about you?’ Brian squeaked indignantly.

  ‘I can look after myself,’ said Ned.

  ‘Oh yes, very good at that, aren’t you?’ said Brian. ‘I mean, you’ve never been caught by the Terror and dressed in dolls’ clothes and pushed in a pram down the stairs only to land on Ringo’s head, have you now? Not to mention—’

  Ned hissed loudly. ‘We are wasting time!’ he shouted.

  Brian jumped and landed in a heap in the middle of his water bowl.

  ‘You are hopeless,’ muttered Ned. ‘I can see that if anyone is going to solve this it will have to be me. On my own.’

  Ned washed for a moment and then stretched. ‘I think we can turn this into a win-win situation,’ he said.

  ‘A win-what?’ squeaked Brian.

  Ned narrowed his eyes. ‘Honestly, my intellect is wasted on you. I have the makings of a plan . . . We need to get the fox off your case, agreed?’ he said. The guinea pig nodded. ‘He has been hounding you for years, and now that Titch has arrived he thinks the family have laid on a buffet for him.’ Ned sniggered at his own joke. ‘Ahem . . . I think if we could rescue the cub and restore him to his parents they would owe us a favour.’

  ‘What sort of a favour?’ Brian asked, his whiskers twitching anxiously.

  Ned flicked his tail. ‘A favour that would help us get our revenge on the girl at last,’ he said.

  Titch did not get a chance to crow about her success when she got home. Brian was sleeping and Ned was nowhere to be seen. Wilf had put the pink rosette on the outside of the hutch so that the ribbons were dangling down in front of the wire mesh window.

  ‘At least I will be able to point that out in the morning,’ Titch said to herself. Then, as it had been a long day, she nestled down and was soon fast asleep herself.

  She quickly found she was having another one of her dreams, a very good one as it happened. One involving a podium and a silver cup and crowds of adoring fans, not to mention an endless supply of crunchy corn and as many juicy earthworms as she could eat.

  When she first heard the knocking sound, it seemed as though it was part of her dream: the noise of her own beak tapping against the hard ground for food. But as she blearily opened her eyes and felt sleep drain away from her, she realized that the knocking was very real indeed, whereas the corn and the earthworms were not.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Brian,’ she said irritably. ‘What are you doing making that racket in the middle of the night? Isn’t it enough that you won’t leave me alone in the hours of daylight?’

  Brian’s face, as bleary-eyed and sleep-drenched as Titch’s own, appeared from a mound of sawdust. ‘What are you doing back here?’ he complained. ‘I thought I’d got rid of your constant chirping and complaining?’

  Titch opened her beak to deliver a particularly disgruntled chirrup when the knocking started up again, only this time it was accompanied by a plaintive wail that even Brian could not accuse Titch of having made herself.

  ‘Holy hay bales!’ shrieked the guinea pig. ‘That was a . . . I’m sure I recognize that voice . . . It’s a . . . a . . .’ he stammered.

  ‘Yes, yes!’ said the wailing voice. ‘It’s me. The fox. And I need your heeeellllp!’

  ‘As if,’ muttered Titch.

  ‘PLEASE!’ cried the voice. ‘You have to listen to me. There’s no time for discussion, no time for argument. Something appalling has happened. YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!’

  Titch squawked in disbelief. ‘US? Help YOU?’ she spat. ‘You are joking? I seem to remember that the last time you and I came face to face you were planning on turning me into a gourmet meal. If it hadn’t been for Ned, I would no longer be here to help anyone, let alone you—’

  ‘All right! All right!’ the fox cut in. ‘You have made your point. I am truly sorry that I was so deceitful. I admit that I did have my eye on you as a particularly toothsome snack, but I have seen the error of my ways. I promise I will do you no harm. Please! Come out so that we can talk face to face.’

  ‘I refuse to trust you!’ squawked Titch. ‘Ned has told me all about you foxes. You woo us with your silky soft ways and make all kinds of promises you have no intention of keeping and then—!’

  ‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Brian, for of course he knew why there was a genuine note of panic in the fox’s voice.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the fox. ‘I will nudge the lock aside with my paw and if you could just push from your side, I think that between us we can get the door open.’

  So with much encouragement from Brian, and much chirpy muttering from Titch, the pair of them did as the fox asked. And suddenly there, in the doorway to the hutch, was a long red nose, sniffing its way inquisitively inside.

  At the sight of this, Titch definitely felt very flappy indeed. And when a chicken is feeling flappy it makes a lot of noise.

  ‘Beuuuurcck!’ Titch cried. ‘Ned! Ned! It’s the fox! Come quick!’

  Afterwards Titch admitted that she had acted without thinking. She said that if she had stopped to consider, she would not have made such a rash move. But adrenalin and fear make a powerful cocktail as poor Brian found when he realized Titch had him round the waist (if a guinea pig can be said to have a waist) and was lifting him off the ground.

  ‘Put me down! Put me DOWN!’ he shrieked.

  But Titch was a chicken on a mission. She flew in the fox’s face, causing him to reel backwards, then she wheeled round, dropped Brian unceremoniously on the lawn and gave the fox one of her kung-fu kicks on the behind. He was already disorientated by the speed at which things were happening, so it did not take much for him to lose his balance and find himself falling backwards into the hutch.

  ‘Quick, Brian!’ yelled Titch.

  ‘I’ll help too,’ said a voice.

  It was Ned. Between them, the three animals managed to push the hutch door shut and slam the bolt home. The fox was now well and truly imprisoned.

  The fox stopped sniffing and withdrew his nose. ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ he cried. ‘I did not mean to alarm you. I shall lie low and not intrude upon your living quarters. But if I were you, I would find some other way of making yourselves invisible, for there is a danger greater than any fox out here, let me tell you.’

  ‘What is all this about?’ Titch asked crossly. ‘You wake us up in the middle of the night, you frighten the socks off us and now you’re talking in riddles!’

  The fox gave a strange gulping sob. ‘He’s been taken!’ he said, his voice rising again to the wail that had so scared Brian previously.

  ‘What? Who? Where?’ asked Titch.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Ned, carelessly washing a paw. ‘Isn’t it, Brian?’

  ‘Yes,’ Brian said.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Titch twittered.

  ‘My baby. My cub,’ cried the fox. ‘Taken by a human – a smaller than average human with yellow hair and startling clear blue eyes.’ The fox shivered. ‘There is something very unsettling about those eyes,’ he whispered. ‘Who can tell what she has done to our baby?’

  Titch looked at Brian. ‘The Terror,’ she said.


  ‘Exactly,’ chorused Brian and Ned.

  They explained how Meena treated them and the other animals.

  ‘It’s only Ringo who doesn’t seem to mind,’ said Titch.

  ‘How marvellous it must be to have so little in the way of brains,’ sighed the fox.

  ‘You – you know Ringo?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Of course,’ said the fox. ‘He comes out into the garden every night, sniffing around at our door, asking if I would like to “come out and play”.’ The fox tutted. ‘As if a working mammal like me has time for that! I asked him about the girl, as it happens, but he really is so clueless, and seems to think the best of everyone. No help to me at all.’

  ‘No,’ Titch sighed, thinking of the last time she had seen Ringo, dressed by Meena in one of Mum’s blouses, complete with Wilf’s school tie and a cycle helmet. The stupid dog had merely run around the garden yapping happily, for all the world as though he was proud to be dressed like a lunatic.

  ‘Whereas we, on the other paw, can be an immense amount of help to you,’ said Ned. He stopped to give himself a quick wash, and waited for the fox’s reaction.

  ‘You?’ said the fox. ‘Really?’

  Ned looked up sharply. ‘We’re your best bet,’ he said.

  The fox nodded sadly. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘So, listen. This is my plan . . .’ Ned began.

  ‘It’s best we get going right away,’ said Ned, once he had outlined the details. ‘If we work through the night, everything will be in place for daybreak. Meena quite often wakes up before anyone else and she usually comes into the kitchen first to get a snack before going to turn on the television. If we work hard, we can have everything ready for when she walks through the door.’

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ said the fox. ‘Where do I come into all this? And what about my cub?’

  Ned sighed. ‘Isn’t it obvious? If we cause a diversion, you can nip to Meena’s room to rescue your cub.’