chicken comes flown
Series: Kung Fu Ė The Legend Continues
Pairing: Caine, Peter, two crazy chickens
Codes: Tuppertrek meets Kung Fu, so to speak
Summary: Two certain chickens, who have
nothing anything in
common with the two persons this sites belong to leave their pink Tuppertrek
universe and move to a new home.†
Disclaimer: The characters in this story donít belong to me. I only borrowed them for some fun. No moneymaking, no violation of copyrights are intended. The story is mine and it is just fanfiction. If you are under age, please stay away. If you have a problem with this topic, then look elsewhere for your entertainment. English is not my native language, so please be patient with my mistakes. Thanks to Lady Charena for the beta. For all remaining errors, blame me.
"Since when do you have chickens, Pop"?
Caine looked at his son, who just entered the loft over the balcony. "Chickens?" he asked surprised.
"At least one chicken," Peter replied and pointed into the direction of the garden below him. Caine bent down and really saw a chicken looking quite windswept from the rain sitting on the ladders foot and looking sadly at him with big, brown eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked the animal tenderly.
This seemed to understand this as permission and fluttered up, directly into Caineís arms. He sat it carefully down on the table and examined it interestedly from all sides. This chicken seemed to be extremely coloured. There were blue and golden feathers, some in pink and it carried even a light square sample at one side. Brown eyes pursued attentively each of his movements.
"I have such never seen such a race," he said to Peter after a while.
Peter suspected the worst. "Pop, you don't want...?" he asked.
But Caine had already hurried into the kitchen and soon afterwards came back with a bowl fully of grains. "You are surely hungry," he said to the chicken and put the bowl in front of it. In addition he had brought a soft cloth with him with which he carefully rubbed the animal dry.
"Well, Pop, this really goes too far," Peter moaned. "Itís enough that you pick criminals all the time and bring them with you here and now a chicken, really."
"Any living being has the right to get help when it needs it, my son," Caine instructed him. "This chicken will have come out of good reason to us."
Peter sighed. Why did his father just have to help everyone and everybody? This only meant trouble anyway. But he knew is was fruitless to contradict his father: If eh wanted to keep this strange chicken he would do so.
"But heís my Pop not yours," he sparkled at the chicken.
As if it had understood him and wanted to annoy him it rubbed his head tenderly to Caineís hand, as he rubbed it dry, then started to pick some grains. Caine just smiled quietly while Peter was cooking inwardly.
The young detective suddenly became aware of a movement in the angles of his eyes and turned alerted quickly around. But it was only a second chicken that fluttered just inside the loft.