Lunar non-event – broadly speaking ...

It seems that, much to Granny Were’s disgust, the Earth’s moon has limited affect on her. Apart from her beak and talons growing, extra feathers sprouting, her comb going bright red and some really unpleasant crowhowling, not too much else happened. All right, maybe that’s a bit of an understatement. (I really don’t like to make a big deal of Granny’s werings.) There was a chicken farmer down the road who met a very unfortunate end, there are some very confused chickens ambling around in the forest and the local branch of KFC is, it is true to say, a smouldering wreck this morning.

The biggest disaster as far as I’m concerned is that Granny manage to wreck her own spacepod. And that poses a horrible problem for me. For the rest though, everyone else got off pretty lightly.

It must be said, Granny did indeed have intentions on going on a death mission. She had taken, we discovered, copious notes on the location of a certain human leader with the full intent of putting him out of the planet’s misery. Unfortunately, when she tried to fly, she found herself grounded by one of Aunt Aggie’s spells, and when she tried to repel the spell, she blew up her spacepod. Which means how in the name of all corncobs am I going to send her back to Novapulse?

Personally, I think the targeted leader had a lucky, if thoroughly undeserved, break. Granny, well-miffed (and that is putting it mildly) retaliated by tearing through suburbia, her tail feathers sparking and crackling with lunar rage.

That’s when she chanced upon the small chicken farm. (I probably haven’t mentioned that we live on the edge of suburbia and there are a number of small agricultural establishments in the area.) I don’t think the chicken farmer knew what hit him. By the time Aunt Aggie and I arrived on the scene all we found were scattered bits of bone and what looked like the remains of a pair of blue dungarees – and a lot of clucking chickens trying to figure out whether good fortune or bad luck had just descended upon them. I must confess, Earth chickens are not the brightest creatures – they really do universal chickenkind a gross disservice. We managed to finally convince them that freedom was better than a life consisting of nothing else other than egg laying or being someone’s dinner.

It was then that we spotted a fireball soaring into the sky and flew threw suburbia to find Granny cackling triumphantly outside the blazing KFC.

Before she could cause further mayhem, Aunt Aggie bound her in a spell, chanted a peace mantra over her and we bundled her away and locked her up in her room – with Aunt Aggie on guard. I have to hand it to Aunt Aggie, her ways clearly have sound effect on Granny’s lunacy and I for one, am suitably impressed. I am also eternally grateful that Earth’s moon is a weak and piffling thing.

I don’t know how the local authorities will deal with the chicken farmer’s demise or the burnt out KFC but frankly, I don’t give a damn. I’m just glad we survived full moon with only limited damage.

Now all I have to do is try to figure out how to get Granny back to Novapulse before the next full moon. Perhaps it is time to call for assistance. If I can lure Agent Double Cluck away from his duties he may be willing to arrange a new spacepod for Granny and Aunt Aggie. I live in eternal hope.